Pirates: The Golden Masque (Updated)
by LadySparrow01
Summary: 'Jack reached into his coat and retrieved a rolled up piece of parchment. He spread the sheet out on the table top for Emera to see, smirking slightly as her eyes widened in astonishment. On the parchment was a sketch of the treasure they were seeking. It was no ordinary bejeweled mask.' - Short story about what happens before Curse of the Black Pearl. Sequel to Welcome to Tortuga.
1. Part 1

***If you've not read "Welcome to Tortuga" I suggest you do that first. Else-wise this won't make much sense.***

Pirates:

The Golden Masque

(A _Pirates of the Caribbean _Short Story)

By: Lady Sparrow

Summer always brought with it a multitude of weather. The conditions seemed to dance somewhere between raging storms and sweltering heat. While neither were very desirable, at least the warmth didn't involve constant risk of being swept from the decks by a stray wave. It merely drained the crew of energy, reducing them to sweating puddles of half dressed men. Ocean storms, however, were treacherous at best. Powerful gales would tear across the sea, threatening to rip sails from their masts and crewmen from their stations. Waves taller than ships would swell out of the depths, swallowing up any vessel unfortunate enough to be caught in the path. Rain came down in icy sheets, freezing every surface it fell upon and making the decks slick. Sure as the world was round, every sailor that cursed summer heat would pray for it once locked in the heart of a rampant tempest.

Near-arctic rain pounded _The Rose_ as the ship fought its way towards the Grand Bahamas. It would only be a few more hours before the Schooner arrived at the modest English port. Emera Flint stood watch on the quarter deck. The collar of her greatcoat was turned up in an attempt to block out the wind and she wore a tri-corn that seemed to do a better job of collecting water than repelling it. The young sailor bounced on her heels in a futile attempt to keep herself warm. It wasn't working. The heavy wool of her greatcoat was doing a superb job of soaking up the rain, making Emera soggy to the bone. Her numb fingers where jammed into her pockets and she kept her face down, looking up at the deck through her bangs. She stood just beside the helm which was in the tight grasp of Lieutenant Briggs. On the main deck, crewmen worked to keep the sails and rigging in place. Men darted this way and that, slipping on the icy rain water that coated the deck. Each man wore a lifeline around his middle, all of which were secured to the base of the main mast. Emera tugged on her own lifeline, for the hundredth time, ensuring it's stability. As she did so another Officer clambered up the stairs towards her.

"Master Flint!" He called over the howling wind.

"Aye?" She replied, blinking water out of her eyes.

"I'm here to relieve you." He told her.

"Thank you." She nodded at him.

Emera scrambled to untie herself. Her deadened fingertips worked franticly against the knot in the rope. Thankfully, ropes had always been something she had a knack for. After a few moments of working she managed to loosen herself. The young sailor passed the lifeline to her replacement before making a quick retreat into the belly of the ship. Once safely below she removed her hat and shook the rain from her hair. She must have looked like a drowned rat but she knew just the cure. Emera set to navigating through the tight corridors with only one destination in mind. The narrow passageways twisted and turned almost endlessly. Had the young sailor not spent most of her life aboard the vessel, she no doubt would have lost herself in the maze. However, the pathways had been burned into her memory, making it nearly impossible for her to lose her way.

When Emera entered the galley she was met by the warmth of the stoves and the rich scent of cooking food, some sort of soup she thought. Taking a breath, she filled her lungs with the smell, instantly began to feel better. The galley was a long and narrow area near the ship's stern. At the far end of the space was the kitchen, which was lined with cabinets. A great wood-burning stove sat proudly against the back wall, heating the room as well as the compartments nearest it. Between the kitchen and the door sat long tables and benches at which the crewmen would dine. It was Emera's favorite place on board the ship. She had spent many an hour there in her time serving on _The Rose_. The young sailor shrugged out of her greatcoat, hanging it on a hook by the door before taking her usual place atop a counter. Emmet Hold, or 'Cookie' as the crew affectionately called the old English sailor, worked at the stove. He sang to himself as he threw ingredients into a hefty pot.

_"It's all for me grog, me jolly, jolly grog,_

_All gone for beer and tobacco._

_Spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin,_

_And across the western ocean I must wander."_

It was one of the shanties that the men would sing in their spare time and Emera knew it well. It was a silly song with an amusing rhythm. She listened to the old cook sing and watched him dance, as well as he could, around the small galley for a while. He noticed her when he turned to grab a clove of garlic and smiled.

"Well now, if it isn't young Miss Emera." He tugged his bandanna in a small salute, "I suspect yer here fer a bit o' soup. Well, ye'll have t' wait a while more I'm afraid. Not ready yet, ya see. Say now, you know this ol' song, sing a verse with yer ol' shipmate."

Without waiting for her to reply he picked up the song again. Emera smiled and joined in, allowing his skilled voice to guide her rough one through the notes.

_"Where are me boots, me noggy, noggy boots,_

_They've all gone for beer and tobacco._

_The leather's kicked about and the soles are all worn out,_

_And my toes are looking out for better weather."_

Cookie let out a gruff laugh and wiped his hands on his grimy apron, "I, meself, am looking out fer better weather. What a gale we've entered! I can hear the heavens a-booming from here!"

"It's bloody retched out there." Emera hugged herself, a chill still lingering just under her damp skin.

"Aye." Cookie brandished a crooked finger at her, "I warned yer father there was a storm a-brewing. I tells him 'Cap'n I can feel it in me bones, I can.' But do he listen? Course he don't! I tell ya true, Me Emmy, yer father is as stubborn as a goat. Won't listen worth spit to those what know better than he do."

Emera had to laugh at this. Cookie had been sailing with her father since they had served in the English Navy as young men. When Flint abandoned the Royal Fleet for Piracy, Cookie was the only one of his original crew that stuck by him. The pair had been together ever since and had the most entertaining habit of arguing like an old married couple. The girl had often bore witness to their many quarrels, which were always more amusing than they were serious.

"I blame myself." She giggled, "I was the one that suggested we make sail for the Grand Bahamas."

"Ah," He narrowed his eyes at her, "So yer the little one what set us homeward bound, eh? What'cha go and do that fer, Me Emmy?"

Emera smiled again. 'Homeward bound.' After nine months at sea, she loved the sound of that. Flint had claimed a small island just north of the Bahamas and, ultimately, that was their destination. When Emera had suggested that they make port at one of the English settlements, Free Port to be exact, she had half expected her father to say no. However, the promise of being a stone's throw from home had managed to catch his attention. The plan was to pick up supplies before sailing round the archipelago for home. In truth, though she hadn't said anything, Emera had an alternative motive for setting in at the Bahamas. Still sitting in the bottom of her coat pocket was the crumpled and nearly illegible note she had received not a month prior. It was that very message that had directed her to the English port. So far, everything was going according to plan.

"Aye." She nodded, "I suppose I missed home, is all. I haven't seen Rosa or Mai or even Malcolm in ages."

"Hmm..." Cookie scratched at his grey stubble and turned back to the soup pot, "I suppose we've been at sea a long while now, ain't we? Mayhaps the crew could do with a spot o' shore leave. And I figure that Dad o' yers will be itching t' see his wife, eh? Not t' mention it gives ya the chance t' catch up with those siblings o' yers, now don't it?"

Emera grinned. He was right. Flint would no doubt be missing Emera's stepmother. The typically gruff and ruthless old Pirate had a way of turning soft whenever Rosa was near. He was absolutely mad about her. Cookie often told Emera that Rosa was the first woman to catch Flint's eye after her own mother was no longer in the picture. However, when Malcolm showed up the two realized that wasn't completely true. The young man was the result of a few weeks Flint had spent shacked up in the Philippines. He had met a woman there, Chona, and they had become very fond of one another. When Malcolm turned 18 he sailed out to the Caribbean, looking for the father that didn't know he existed. By this time Flint had married Rosa. His new bride as well as her daughter, Mai (from a previous relationship), had made their home on Flint's Island. Theirs was a unique family, but it was a family nonetheless.

"That it does." Emera agreed, "I only hope that Malcolm will be there this time. He hasn't been home the last few times I have. He's always out at sea..."

"Such is the life of an honest sailor." Cookie shrugged, "That brother o' yers is bound by the rules o' the merchant ship he sails on. Why he don't just turn Pirate and sail with us, I haven't the foggiest. Something about duty and honor, no doubt."

"It's simpler then all that." She explained, "He needs the steady coin, is all. He's still got his Mum t' look out for, ya know."

"Aye, that he do." Cookie nodded.

Emera opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a group of men coming into the galley. The assembly consisted of four crewmen and Philips, Flint's second in command. The men laughed and joked loudly amongst themselves as they crowded around one of the long tables. Philips was a tall, shifty looking man that caused Emera's skin to crawl. He had the appearance of a thief but the attitude of a noblemen. He stood, one boot atop a bench, telling an account of one of his many (and false) acts of bravery. His story telling was childish at best. He formulated sentences as though he was trying to cram as many words into them as possible. And yet the crewmen that sat around him listened with eager ears. Emera rolled her eyes. She knew a man half Philips age who had had twice as many exploits and was blessed with the ability to enlighten any who wished to hear them in the most eloquent of manners.

"Cookie!" Philips roared, "A round of grog for these fine sailors and a helping of whatever yer putting together!"

"Aye, Sir." Cookie nodded, "Right away."

The men returned to their previous discussion. Emera ignored them, going back to watching Cookie work. When asked she would toss him various ingredients or supplies. It was something they had done together since she was young and it had become almost second nature to her. She loved helping the old sea cook around his kitchen. It was like a game the two would play. Toss that, catch this, find something else. Emera was nearly completely immersed in the work when something from behind her caught her attention.

So quietly she couldn't honestly be sure of it, one of the crewmen said, "Didn't know we's had a bar wench aboard."

Emera glance over her shoulder but couldn't be sure which of the four crewmen had made the remark. She wanted to call them out on it. Speaking ill of a Senior Officer was something that shouldn't be left unsettled. While she was trying to figure out which sailor needed to be reprimanded, Cookie had tossed her something. The bag of sugar hit her square in the chest, bringing her back to the happenings of the kitchen.

"Look lively, Me Emmy." Cookie grinned.

"Aye, _Me Emmy._" Came a snickering voice from behind her, "Look lively."

She whipped around this time, not bothering to hide her irritation. She glared at the men who simply avoided her gaze, pretending that she wasn't there. When she looked at Philips, he acted as though he hadn't heard what had been said. The fact that many of the crew didn't respect her was something that she was well aware of. She had to deal with everyday of her life. And she had known that Philips looked down on her since day one. But the fact that he was just standing there, idly, really jaded her.

"Emera, me girl." Cookie set down a few stein glasses full of grog next to her, "Would ya help an ol' cook out? Take these t' the gents, will ya? This ol' crutch o' mine makes it a might tough t' carry an arm load."

He nodded towards the wooden crutch that leaned against one of the barrels. Emera knew the story of Cookie's leg all too well. When he was serving with Captain Flint in the English Navy, their ship had fallen under attack. The Master Gunner was killed by a cannon ball tearing through the gun deck, leaving a dozen or so men without command. Cookie had been educated as a doctor when he had been young and he was on the deck at the time, tending to the wounded. He stepped up, taking command of the gunmen. The crew was organized in no time, but the ship was still taking heavy fire. A chain-shot ripped through the hull, sending chunks of ship flying in every direction. A spread of shrapnel buried its self into Cookie's left calf, severing the tendons there. Luckily, when the battle was over, he had been able to remove the shrapnel himself. Unfortunately the damage was already done and the old sailor had walked with a crutch ever since. In the galley, he could manage himself rather well. He often braced himself on the counter tops, hobbling this way and that with relative ease. However, out in the open he required a crutch to brace himself, which made carrying more than one object at a time rather difficult.

Emera nodded, "Aye, Cookie."

"There's a good girl." He smiled warmly at her and passed her the steins.

"Looks even more like a bar wench, she do." They weren't even hiding it now.

"I'd like t' get me hands on her kettledrums!" Another remarked.

"No, Mate!" His friend scoffed, "She ain't got much of an apple dumplin' shop!"

Emera suddenly felt the need to put her greatcoat back on. Or at least adjust her waistcoat so it covered her chest better. As she crossed to the table of men she could feel their eyes all over her. And although she knew perfectly well that she was clothed, Emera couldn't help but feel as though they could see right through the fabric covering her frame. She gritted her teeth a little, both self-conscious and infuriated.

"Sir," Emera addressed Philips now, "haven't you got something t' say about this?"

"Come now Master Flint." He let out a laugh, "Men will be men. You can't really expect them to act outside of their nature, now can you? In any case, they're thirsty. So hurry up with those drinks, Love."

His voice all but slapped her across the face. It was painfully clear that she wouldn't get any help from him. Not that she was surprised. As they sat there, snorting and laughing, Emera decided that enough was enough. The young sailor slammed the cups down hard upon the wooden surface, sending grog rocketing from the steins in every possible direction. There was an uproar of complaints and curses from the drink soaked men. Emera shot Philips a hard look.

"I'm an Officer aboard this ship, not your ruddy serving-girl." She kept her voice even, "I have better things t' be doing with my time."

"Why you little -!" Philips wiped his face angrily.

She turned back to look at Cookie, "I've just remembered that the Captain has work for me t' do. Perhaps I'll come back later when it isn't as crowded."

With that she turned on her heel, snatched up her greatcoat and marched out of the galley without looking back. Emera stalked down the corridors, grumbling to herself. She knew that there was little that could be done to change the attitude towards her. Most of the men hated the idea of taking orders from a woman. And they weren't afraid to show it. Even though her power aboard the ship was limited, she was of higher rank than those crewmen. Them, she could deal with on her own. Philips, however, was an entirely different story. While she had the authority to punish the crewmen, she could do nothing about her superior Officers. And the fact that he was second in command made matters worse. He had more influence over the crew than anyone, save Captain Flint himself. As long as he kept acting the way he did, so would the others. Emera tried to shrug off the bitter feeling that clung to her, but couldn't seem to manage it. She felt used and helpless and violated.

When the young Pirate reached the Officer's Cabin she trudged to her bunk. Like the galley, the cabin was a long room. It housed the sleeping accommodations and belongings of all the Officers, save Philips who thankfully had his own cabin. Their bunks were arranged so that the highest of rank were closest to the door and the lowest were farthest back. Emera, being only of moderate importance, was stationed in the middle of the room. Her hammock and belongings were between that of the Bos'n, a man called Peterson, and Lieutenant Briggs. She flopped down into her hammock, dropping her coat beside her.

Emera stared up at the low ceiling, still stewing and hugging herself. She couldn't wait to get to Free Port. For the last several days she had all but counted down the hours. The young sailor leaned down and rummaged through the pocket of her greatcoat, her fingers closing around the bit of parchment there. She pulled out the note. Since receiving it in Tortuga a month ago, she had carried it with her everywhere. This, of course, resulted in the bit of paper becoming quiet tattered and smudged. Even still she could make out the muddled, swooping scrawl that covered its rumpled surface. She read through it a few times, smiling to herself. The words always had a way of cheering her no matter how bad her mood was.

If all went well, in a few hours she would be in the company of Captain Jack Sparrow.


	2. Part 2

Emera stood, looking up at a faded old tavern sign. At one point it looked to have been elaborately painted in shades of golds and blues. However, it was long since made dingy and weatherworn. Faded golden paint read: _The Mermaid's Song. _The young sailor glanced down at the parchment in her hand to assure herself that she was indeed in the right place.

'_Meet me in a tavern called The Mermaid's Song. I should like for you to share in my latest exploit._'

The ragged note once again reassured her of where she ought to be. Though, because Jack had failed to specify which part of the Bahamas he would be in, coming to Free Port was a gamble. For all Emera knew, Jack could have meant Nassau or Rum Cay. Taking a breath to steady herself, she stepped through the tavern doors. She was here now and would just have to deal with what she had. Despite its rundown exterior, inside, the place seemed to be in good shape. There was a bar along the far wall and circular tables filled every available space, only a few of which were occupied. The walls looked as though someone had started decorating them but had grown bored part way though. A few paintings hung here or there and a half finished seascape mural took up the back wall. It's colours had faded into dingy off blues and greyish whites. To the left of the bar was a bronze statue of a Mermaid. She was perched on a rock, combing her hair with a fish bone and her mouth was open as though she were singing. Whether the tavern had been named for the statue or if the statue had been made for the bar, she wasn't sure.

Emera sat down at an empty table. Back angled to the wall and eyes on the room, she scanned the area again. From what she could see there was only the one entry way, save for a few large windows that lined the front of the tavern. She thought, perhaps, there might be a cellar door back behind the bar but she couldn't be certain. Mapping exits was something her father had drilled into her for as long as she could remember. Knowing where an enemy could approach from and where to go if one did was a trick that might just save a life. Mainly, her own.

Candelabras lined the walls, casting the bar in a dusty light. They illuminated everything with their dingy glow, casting light over what would have otherwise been a shady back table tucked away into the far corner of the tavern. Like Emera, the person stationed there was completely alone. Whoever they were they wore a heavy black traveling cloak about themselves, the hood drawn up so their face was hidden from on lookers. It was nothing out of the ordinary to see mysterious folk in a tavern such as _The Mermaid's Song. _In fact, many suspicious folk tended to prefer such dingy places. Even still, there was something about this particular figure that made Emera stare. The traveling cloak, she thought, was of a higher quality than most common folk could even dream of affording. Emera was guessing at its cost when the person wearing it turned to look at her. Their face was hidden by the shadow of their hood, but the young sailor would have sworn she saw a glint of blue where the figure's eyes should be. Deciding that her suspicion merely came from the fact that the cloak made it's wearer more obvious and not less, the young sailor returned to her own business. She tried to relax, now certain in her knowledge of the tavern's layout and occupants.

Even though she hadn't seen Jack for seven months, she knew that she would recognize him in an instant. She glanced from table to table, looking for him now. However, Jack wasn't any of the tavern's patrons. She sighed and slumped back into her chair. It had taken ages to convince her father to let her go off on her own. Ever since her adventure in Tortuga, Flint had become increasingly protective of her. She couldn't really blame him, though. In Tortuga she had nearly been trampled, got into a tavern brawl, snuck out in the middle of the night, been attacked by an enraged Pirate Lass and nearly caught her death of cold after leaping into the ocean. Emera had to swear oath after oath to him, ensuring that she wouldn't do anything fool hearty. Now, as she sat in the middle of a tavern that may or may not be on the right island, she couldn't help but wonder if it was worth all the trouble.

The young sailor waited, her nerves boiling just beneath the surface of her skin. Every time the door swung open she expected to see Jack sauntering into the room casually. He never did. Two hours and as many mugs of mead later, Emera was still alone. She fought with herself silently, debating whether she had been stood-up or if Jack was even in Free Port at all. If what he had said in his note was true, then he had already been in town for a few weeks. It was entirely possible that he had gotten bored of waiting for her and left. In fact, as she pondered it, she realized she wouldn't put it past him to forget entirely that he was supposed to meet her. The only other alternative was too grim for her to allow herself to think of.

The young sailor itched at her left palm. Her short, dirty, nails scrapped across the rough and jagged scar that stretched from below her index finger and diagonally across to the heel of her hand. Emera had gotten it the night she and Jack had parted in Tortuga. Apparently scaling down the side of a building is a feat that requires gloves. The pale, raised marking served as a reminder of that night and in a way, of him. Scratching at it was an unfortunate habit she had developed. In the time that the Pirate had been sitting there, the room had slowly emptied itself out. Now Emera was among only a few lone costumers, not surprising for the middle of the day but disheartening nonetheless. She sat at her table unaccompanied and trying to decide if she should leave or not. If she left then she risked missing Jack, however if she stayed there was no guaranty he would show. She cursed under her breath and silently wished for him to parade through the door. All Emera seemed to be able to do was scratch at her scar and wait.

The barkeep finally walked by and eyed her for a moment before saying, "Begging yer pardon, Miss. But would you happen to be Miss Emera Flint, by any chance? Emera Flint what's good friends with Captain Sparrow?"

"Aye." She nodded, hope fluttering in her chest, "That's me."

"I thought so." He smiled at her, "Captain Sparrow told me that I would know you by yer short cropped hair and boyish face."

She smirked, "He said that?"

"Aye, he did. He also said that if I saw a girl of yer description, and who was called Emera Flint, I'm to give her a message from him." The barkeep wiped his hands on his apron as he spoke.

"What is it?" Emera nearly leapt to her feet, "What's the message?"

"Hold on, hold on. I've got it here somewhere." He rummaged about in his pockets.

Emera all but wanted to shake the message out of him. She hadn't heard from Jack in half a year. Anything could have happened to him in that time. It was a constant worry of hers which hovered somewhere in the back of her mind. Having lived the life of a Pirate since she was young, she knew all too well what could be fall a gentlemen of fortune. Now, sitting with the promise of hearing from him at last, she could scarcely contain herself. A mixture of relief and excitement danced through her.

"Ah, yes!" The barkeep said finally, "Here we are."

He handed her a folded and grubby piece of parchment that was bound with twine and sealed with a dollop of red wax. Emera felt gutted looking at the note. It was barely larger than the palm of her hand, meaning there couldn't be much stored within. After a year and a half she had hoped for more.

She stared at him flatly, "Is that it?"

"Is all he gave me, Miss." The bar keep scratched at his beard.

"Did he say something?" She tried to keep her hand from trembling as she took the parchment.

"Not a word Miss." The man shook his head as he stepped away.

"Thank you..." Emera mumbled after him.

She stared at the note for some time, wondering at its contents before breaking the seal with her thumb. The ragged parchment practically fell open in her hands as she carefully pulled off the twine. She raised the note, breathing its scent into her lungs. It smelt of stale paper, rot and salt. Looking down over its surface she was struck by the swooping scrawl she knew to be Jack's hand.

_Emera,_

_If you're reading this than it means the business I had elsewhere has taken longer to deal with than I had hoped. My apologies. If you'd do me the kindness of meeting me at_ _No.4, Park St, Market Square the day before Midsummer's__I would be much obliged._

_Yours,_

_Captain Jack Sparrow._

_P.S. I promise I'll be there._

When she had smelt the rot and stagnation of the parchment she had been terrified that it would be an old message. But the contents implied that it had only been written within the last few days. She suspected, then, that the paper was something Jack had been carrying around with him for a while and had only just found a use for it.

Emera did some quick math in the form of counting off the days and their dates on her finger tips. As luck should have it (depending on whether she was correct or not) tomorrow was the day before Midsummer's. She studied the address Jack had left her with. No. 4, Park St, Market Square. She had to admit that her familiarity with Free Port was not as good she would have liked. Still, finding it wouldn't be that difficult. The port was small. And Market Square sounded as though it should be fairly obvious.


	3. Part 3

It was still pouring outside as Emera made her way to Flint's cabin aboard _The Rose_. It was beginning to look as though it would never let up. Rain pelted the sails and deck in a steady rhythm that accompanied the low conversation of the deck crew. The ship (which was anchored just off shore) rocked to and fro with the stormy waves.

As if attempting to keep her balance after her slight bought of land sickness wasn't enough to concentrate on, Emera was also grappling with herself. She knew that she needed to ask her father's permission to be ashore on the night of Midsummer's, however, try as she might she couldn't manage to get him alone. He was far too busy managing all the happenings of the crew. Now, late as it was, she assumed he would be in his cabin. No doubt Flint would be working over the days reports or madly scribbling in his Captain's log. It wasn't the best time to disturb him, this Emera knew. But it would be the only time she could do so without an audience present.

As she approached the cabin she silently rehearsed what she was going to say. Emera was confident that she had put together a rather fine argument. However, when she reached the door to her father's cabin, all feelings of certainty were replaced with the sensation of ice forming in the pit of her stomach. Philips had just left the cabin. He shut the door behind him but did not move from her path. Instead he simply stared at her, smirking. She held her ground and marched towards the door with purpose.

"Well, if it isn't young Master Flint." Philips spoke in a low voice and leaned against the door, "No doubt come to see her Daddy."

"I have business with the Captain." She replied flatly, "Let me pass."

He ignored her, "I didn't take too kindly t' the stunt you pulled in the galley, Em."

"_Don't_," She warned him, "call me that. Only my friends call me that. It's Master Flint, t' you. Now let me pass."

"Yer lucky I don't report you." He glared at her, "That's twice now that ye've insulted a Senior Officer."

"Let. Me. Pass." She repeated slowly and clearly.

He grabbed her wrist and marched her until her back was to a wall, "Ya think that just because yer the Captain's daughter I can't touch you? Well, yer wrong. I could make yer life a living Hell, Master Flint. Yer precious Daddy won't always be around t' save ya. You don't belong here. Ye've never belonged here. In fact yer vary presence aboard this ship is an insult to every sailor what calls himself a man o' the sea! Yer a weak and useless little girl and I'll not have you parading around here like some smug bitch!"

Emera took a breath to steady herself, "Either flog me or let me pass, Philips. I don't have the time it's taking for ya t' make up yer mind."

He let go of her roughly, "Get out of my site. We won't always be a stone's throw from yer father's cabin. It's high time ya start watching yer back, Emera Flint. Mark my words, yer time is coming."

"I'll keep that in mind." She shoved past him and hurried through the cabin door.

Captain Flint's cabin was located at the stern of the ship below the Officer's galley. Along the back wall were a bank of windows which looked out over _The Rose's _wake. Just in front of the windows sat a tall-backed armchair and a proud oak desk, in front of which sat another smaller chair. The top of the desk was generally covered in stacks of parchment as well as trinkets. Ink pots and heavy leather-bound books were also typically among the mess. Along the left wall of the room were tall bookshelves which stored everything from small boxes to the treasures Flint had found on his many adventures. The right wall was home to a birth which served as the Captain's sleeping accommodations. In the corner near the door sat a large, old globe. Flint often bragged that it was one of the first ever made. He took pride in pointing out where things had been drawn incorrectly or not at all.

At the moment, however, the good Captain was sitting in his tall-backed armchair hunched over what looked to be a pile of maps. Emera shut the door softly behind her as she entered. Upon seeing him she was almost afraid to disturb him. He looked lost in himself. The young sailor cleared her throat a little. Flint looked up at her from under his bangs. For a moment it looked as though he would tell her to get out. But then his eyes lightened. He ran his rough hands over his face, as though attempting to rub off the stress of whatever he was working on. Then he leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"We missed you at supper." He commented casually.

"I wasn't hungry." Emera shrugged.

He chuckled a little, "Well, don't just stand there in the doorway like a stranger. Come here, sit down. Tell me what you got up t' today."

Emera felt a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as she moved to take her usual seat on the chair in front of the desk. "Bloody" John Flint (named so for his mess of ginger hair) had an air about him that Emera simply couldn't describe. He had a way of inspiring those around him with few, if any, words. His men all but worshiped the ground he walked and hailed him as a great leader. There wasn't a single man on board that wouldn't defend Captain Flint and _The Rose _to their last breath. Flint was a real man of the sea who was composed of strong arms, richly tanned skin and a surprisingly handsome face. He, somehow, was able to inspire both respect and fear at the same time. As much as his men loved him, he was so much more to Emera. To say that she idolized her father would be an understatement. He was her everything. For as long as she could remember her whole world had been wrapped around him. Him and only him. Ever since she was little, Emera had dreamed about growing up to be just like her father. She wanted to be brave and strong and fearsome. Just like he was.

"How was town?" He pressed.

"Good." She nodded, silently reformulating her question, "I ugh... I had a couple drinks at some tavern."

"Is that so?" He smiled.

"Aye." Emera went on, "I was supposed to be meeting a friend but he- "

"He?" Her father cracked a smile, "Do I happen t' know this young man?"

"No." Emera giggled a little, "But he's a good man, I can assure ya. He.. well he never actually showed up. But he sent me word some time ago and invited me to a celebration two nights from now."

"A celebration?" Her father leaned back in his chair.

"It's just a street festival." She lied, "For Midsummer's. Ya know: Food, music, dancing... that sorta thing."

Flint grinned at her again, "You've never been one t' take part in festivals. I thought ya hated parties. Why the sudden change?"

"No reason in particular," Emera shrugged, "I thought it might be fun. A… change of scenery."

"Well," Her father rubbed his face again, "I don't see why ya couldn't go. You said two days from now?"

"Aye, that's right." She scratched at the scar on her palm but smiled, "And I... I wonder if... if I might borrow some money from you?"

He raised an eyebrow, "You've still got yer share from our last haul, do ya not?"

"It's just... I don't think it'll be enough." She told him.

"Enough for what?" He ran a hand through his long ginger hair.

"For... for..." She shifted uncomfortably and found herself silently wishing for a mother to have this discussion with instead.

Emera's mother, Abigail North, had vanished when the young sailor was still only a small child. No one, not even Flint, knew what had become of her. She had run out one night leaving only a note and a silver locket (the one Flint now wore around his neck) in her place. In the locket was a small family portrait that Abigail had commissioned while in London.

Now, Emera had never really known her mother. And right up until Flint married Rosa, the young girl hadn't known what it was like to even have a mother figure about. It had always just been her and her father, the two of them, together as a team. As a child she had grown up on Flint's Island where she really only had her father as a friend. The result of this was that the two of them had grown incredibly close. In fact, Emera found herself wondering, from time to time, why anyone would need more than just one parent. One seemed like more than enough. Flint had never run out of time or unconditional love for her. However, on occasion, there were times that she felt cut off from him. As every daughter knows, there are some things one simply can't discuss with their father, no matter how strong the bond is. Some things are only for a mother's ears. And it was during those rare moments that Emera found herself wishing for a mother. Rosa was wonderful... but sometimes her stepmother wasn't exactly what she needed.

"Well it is… I need a… a dress." She managed, embarrassed slightly.

"A dress?" Flint stared at her.

The young sailor nodded and plunged on, "Aye, t' wear t' the festival. I don't need anything too nice. I'm not asking for something elaborate like those French girls we saw in Martinique. But at least something that's better than what I've got - which is nothing. I know it's ridiculous and that I don't have anywhere else to wear it but... I just need one, alright?"

This was something she had realized while walking home from _The Mermaid's Song. _If Jack intended on dragging her to some Masquerade Ball, as he had mentioned in his first note, then she would need something to wear. Flint sat there, blinking at her for a moment. Then he cracked a grin and leapt to his feet, coming around the desk he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

His chest rumbled with laughter as he said, "By the stars, I thought this day would never come!"

"Eh?" She didn't understand.

"Bless yer wee heart!" He crushed her even tighter before releasing his grip and holding her at arm's length, "Emera, since you were a young Lass ye've never wanted anything that wouldn't be useful. Do you remember what ya wanted me t' bring back for you when I went t' Paris?"

"I wanted a telescope." She replied, still confused.

"Aye! A telescope! I offered t' bring ya back a dress or shoes or books or toys but all ya wanted was a telescope! And when I asked you why," He beamed down at her, "ya said it was because a telescope was more practical than anything I had offered."

Emera furrowed her brow at him, "I still don't understand why yer so happy."

He pulled her back into a lung-flattening embrace, "I've always been a little worried that ya felt you could never ask anything of me, Bean. Yer young, yer supposed t' want irrational and pointless things. I would be more than happy t' buy you a dress."

"Really?" She managed to choke out from under his arms.

"Aye!" He laughed again, "I've got a pouch of gold pieces that should be more than enough for something fetching."

"Thanks Dad." She hugged him back and smiled to herself, "This means a lot t' me."

He beamed down at her for a moment before his brow furrowed and he asked, "This Lad doesn't have something t' do with all this... does he?"

"Umm..." She hadn't been expecting this, "Well, he's sort of… related t' it. I suppose."

"Ya know Bean," He held her at arm's length again and raised his eyebrows, "I've always taught ya t' be careful, but not all men are as forceful as I might o' let on. Some of them are right sneaky bastards that'll slither their way into yer heart and take what they want without so much as a 'by your leave.'"

"What part of 'he's a good man' did ya not hear?" She smirked.

"I just worry about ya, is all." He hugged her again, "I don't what t' see ya hurt."

"I'll be careful, Dad. I promise."

He let her go and ruffled her hair playfully, "You bloody-well had better be! Now if that's all you should be off. I got work t' be doing and I don't need yer yapping t' distract me."

"I'll just leave ya t' it then." She beamed up at him, returning his playful tone.

Emera stole one last hug before retreating towards the door. When she opened the portal she was suddenly struck by a thought. The young sailor turned back to look at her father. He was already sitting back behind the desk.

"Dad?"

"Aye?" He smiled again.

"What did Philips want? He was leaving when I got t' yer door." She asked.

He shook his head a little, "Never you mind, Bean. It's only a bit o' business that needed sorting. You've got far more important things t' worry about, like that Lad of yers. Ya know I expect an introduction."

"Maybe after the festival." She replied sweetly, "If everything goes well."

"Deal." He nodded.

Although she was in significantly higher spirits when she left the cabin, she couldn't help but wonder what it was that Philips had wanted. It seemed lately that the man had been skulking around in the shadows more than usual. Something twinged in the back of her mind, telling her that the First Officer was undoubtedly up to something. Although she knew it was probably just her imagination and general dislike for the man, she couldn't seem to shake it. It lingered somewhere just under the surface of her skin as she made her way to the galley.

Emera shook her head to clear it of anything related to Philips. Her father was right, she did have more important things to worry about. Now that she had permission to leave the ship, it was time for her to concentrate on the Masque it's self. She had never been to a real party before. All she knew of them was what she read in books and the stories she heard. The celebrations she had been too hadn't been much more than street festivals or small crew affairs held aboard the ship. She expected that the Masque, whatever it was, should be rather different. In fact, she realized that it would be like nothing she had ever experienced before. The folk attending would no doubt be rich, high society types. She suspected that Jack was most likely planning on stealing something from the guests or hosts or maybe both. Emera wouldn't have any idea how to behave while there. She knew she certainly didn't look the part. The young sailor thanked her lucky stars that it was a masquerade. At least that way her face would be covered. But what of the rest of her? She was hardly a budding example of femininity. The dress should help somewhat in that regard.

When Emera opened the door to the galley she saw Kay sitting atop one of the long tables. The girl looked over her shoulder when she heard Emera come in, and smiled. She was a short, buxom young woman with a head full of gold hair. The two Pirates had met in Tortuga (the same night Emera had met Jack) in a tavern. A brawl had broken out and the two had fought back to back in the center of the room. A few days later Emera had offered Kay a position aboard _The Rose._ They had been close friends ever since.

"So?" Kay flashed her a mischievous grin, "How did it go?"

Emera rolled her eyes, "I dunno what yer talking about ya Merry-Begotten."

"Oi, Long Meg! Just asking a question." Kay stuck out her tongue and made a face, "You met him today right? Did he show up? Did you talk? Did you snog?"

Emera planted herself beside her friend, "No. He didn't show up. What is it with you and snogging, anyway?"

Kay ignored the question and braced her elbows on her knees, "Shame. Did he send word at least? Explaining his interest in Masquerade Balls? That part of the note made no bloody sense at all."

Naturally, as best friends do, the two girls shared everything with one another. As could be expected, Kay knew every detail about what had taken place between Emera and Jack seven months ago. The two had spent many an evening huddled away in the galley discussing and overanalyzing everything that had happened. Kay was set in her theory that it was simply a matter of time before Jack would sweep Emera off her feet or steal her away from life aboard _The Rose._ Emera adamantly disagreed. She was certain that whatever Jack felt for her, it wasn't the same as what she felt for him... and that was the one thing she never told Kay. Perhaps because she couldn't even admit it to herself yet. The feelings were still far too complicated.

"I haven't any idea what he's planning." Emera sighed, "But I figure it involves taking me to a Ball."

"Oh! I can just see it, Em!" Kay bubbled excitedly, "You all dressed up like a woman of fine breeding and Jack looking like a proper gentlemen! The pair of you glide in, do whatever needs doing and glide out again without ever raising suspicion! It's bloody brilliant!"

"Only if that's what the plan is." Emera shrugged, "I hate not knowing what I'm getting myself int'. I don't know the first thing about acting like a Lady, should it come t' that. I don't even know how t' dance!"

Just then Cookie hobbled out from the back of the galley and into sight, "Did someone say 'dance' or do me old ears swindle me?"

"Em's got t' learn how t' dance like a right courtier before Midsummer's." Kay explained simply, "Hopeless, if ya ask me."

Emera nudged her in the ribs with her elbow.

"Not so, says I." Cookie gave them a warm smile, "I know a thing 'r two about dancing, I do. Never you worry, Me-Emmy. We'll have ya sorted out in no time."

"You... know how t' dance?" Emera was shocked.

"Aye, that I do." The old sailor straightened himself on his crutch, "Before this blasted leg o' mine went fowl I was quite the gentlemen, I was. There were few what could court a Lady as well as I."

"Then you can teach her t' dance?" Kay smirked.

"That I can." He nodded, "Mind you Miss Kay, it'll be a team effort. I make fer a lousy partner these days."

"Well," Kay said with a satisfied grin, "that's sorted. Now we just have t' make ya look the part."

"What?" Emera said flatly.

"You can't bloody-well walk into a party looking like ye've just served aboard ship for half a year!" The girl explained, crossing her arms.

"I _did_ just serve aboard ship for half a year!" Emera argued, "I'm far too tan and... craggy t' pass for anything but a Pirate!"

Kay took hold of Emera's shoulders and shook the young sailor, "Get a grip on yerself woman! By the time we're through with ya, yer own father won't recognize ya! Now then, when are ya buying the dress?"

"Tomorrow, I guess." Emera shrugged out of her grip and took out the parchment Jack had given her earlier, "He gave me this address t' meet him at. I figure after that I'll find a shop or something..."

Kay took the rumpled paper and eyed it for a moment, "Hmm... right. I'm coming with ya. You'll need someone with experience t' act as yer consultant."

Emera snorted, "Experience. When have you ever had this sort of experience?"

The girl's face became suddenly serious, "Emera Flint, I have an older sister and three cousins who are all happily married. Ya don't sit through that many weddings as a bride's maid without learning a thing or two about gowns."

"Fair enough." Emera smiled, "And thanks. I dunno what I would do without ya."


	4. Part 4

The next morning Emera and Kay woke early to meet Jack. Rain fell from the sky in a pathetic yet unrelenting drizzle. The young sailor scowled up at the clouds as she and her friend made their way down the street. The way she saw it, if it was going to rain it might as well be a storm or nothing at all.

As Emera had suspected, locating the address didn't take very long. The two girls found themselves strolling down a street lined with middleclass houses, wondering if Jack had given them the right address. No. 4, Park St, Market Square turned out to be a simple, single story home. Glancing at one another as if for reassurance, Emera and Kay walked up the front garden path to the door. The young sailor rapped on the wooden surface with her knuckles, still completely unsure if they were where they ought to be. She was beginning to recognize a theme of uncertainty regarding her location.

When the door opened a tall young man was standing in the door way. Kay raised her eyebrows at Emera as if to ask 'is this him?' The young sailor silently responded, giving her friend a look that said 'no, I haven't any idea who this is.' Conversations that didn't require words had quickly become a specialty of theirs.

"Can I help yuh?" The young man asked.

He spoke with an accent that marked him as being from Trinidad and looked down at the two with dark, intelligent eyes. She took measure of him quickly, trying to figure out if she could trust him or not. He was perhaps around Emera's age with a kind open face. His hair was long, hanging to his ribs in neat dreadlocks, and he wore ordinary clothing. Emera could only assume he was the owner of the house.

"We're looking for Jack Sparrow..." Emera shoved her hands into her pockets, "Is he here, by chance?"

The young man cracked a wide smile, "Aye, Cap'n Sparrow is in the back room with Tantie. He said yuh'd be coming. I'm Elijah."

"Emera." She introduced herself and the pair shook hands, "And this is Kay."

"Right, well, go on through. Just int' the parlor." He stepped aside and let the two girls pass into the house.

The Pirates entered into a modest great room. It was of a good size and there was a fire burning dully in the hearth along the far wall. A low table stood in the center of the room surrounded by a sofa and a few chairs. Overall it appeared to be a normal room, the sort that could be found in any home on the island. However, there was one main difference which set it apart from any home Emera had ever been in. Every available space was taken up by fabrics, clothing and sewing supplies. Baskets of the stuff overflowed onto the table while half finished articles lay over chair-backs. Emera had never seen anything like it. Unfortunately she didn't have the chance to gape for long.

Elijah ushered them quickly through another door and into a parlor. This was a much smaller room but was laid out in much the same manner as the one they had just been in. The only differences were the bookshelves that lined the walls, the windowed doors that opened into the back garden and the partition screen that hid one corner from view. Also, there was a distinct lack of fabrics which was made up for by a supply of finished garments standing on mannequins or draped over hangers. Most looked like ordinary clothes but some were more extravagant pieces that would have been better suited to the closet of a wealthy woman or the costume department of a theatre. Standing, proudly in the center of the room, was one of the most beautiful women Emera had ever seen. She had to be close to six feet in height and her strong build was clothed in a simple but elegant patterned morning gown. Her thick mass of curly black hair was drawn back away from her face by a blue and worn out silk bandana. She looked to be somewhere in her fifties or sixties, but age had treated her well.

The woman regarded the three newcomers with a warm smile before saying, "Ah, there yuh are. We were beginning to worry about yuh, girly."

Her accent, like her nephew, was from Trinidad. She gave Elijah a small nod, dismissing him from the room silently and with the grace of a noble woman. Emera suddenly felt rather out of place. She opened her mouth to introduce herself to the woman but was cut off by a familiar voice issuing from behind the partition screen.

"You certainly took your time!" He said sternly as he came out into the room, "I've been waiting here for ages."

Emera's jaw nearly struck the ground. Though she knew the man standing before to be Jack Sparrow, she hardly recognized him. Save for the frock coat, which sat over the back of a chair, he was clad in a gentleman's suit. He wore a fine cream shirt and a golden and black brocade waistcoat. A pair of matching black breeches fell to just below his knees where polished coal coloured leather boots began. But the clothes were not his only transformation. The tattered old bandana that usually sat across his brow had been removed. Jack had, somehow, tamed his typically wild locks. His long dark hair was pulled back from his face and secured in a low, neat, tail. His face had been cleaned also, though kohl smudges were still present around his eyes. Emera realized, as she looked at him, that she had never seen his whole face before. Nor had she ever seen his ears. Like her, his left lobe had been pierced through and a gold and wired wrapped pendant hung there. He had opted to keep his other trinkets as well, she noticed. His fingers still bore his usual rings. And, though they were well hidden, the charms in his hair still managed to catch the light, drawing one's eye.

"Who's she?" Jack's question brought Emera back to herself and she realized she had been staring.

"Oh, right. This is Kay Smith." She introduced, "Kay, this is Jack Sparrow."

"_Captain._" He corrected while offering his new acquaintance hand.

"Yer not what I expected, Captain." She replied sweetly, "Em made you out to be a ruffian of sorts."

"She did?" He raised an eyebrow, smirking and turned his attention to Emera, "Long time, Darling."

A smile tugged at the young sailor's mouth, "He doesn't usually look like that. Jack, what are ya wearing?"

"Like it?" He turned to the side a little, showing himself off.

"Little Sparrow here was just trying on his costume." The beautiful woman finally spoke again, "I've a match for yuh as well, girly."

"For me?" She shot Jack a questioning look, "Jack, I've waited long enough... tell me what all of this is about."

"And so you have." He agreed, "If I could have a moment with Miss Flint?"

"Of course." The woman nodded but she and Kay stayed where they were, the only move she made was to undress one of the mannequins.

"Right." Jack's voice was flat.

The questions Emera had been fighting to hold back came flooding forward, "What are we doing? Where did ya go? Why weren't ya at the tavern? What business were you tending t' that was so important?"

"One at a time, Love." He cracked a grin and took hold of her hands, "I was acquiring the invitations needed for you and I to gain entrance to the Masque. That is why I could not meet you. When did you get in?"

"Yesterday." She replied, "What's this venture you've pulled me into?"

"Cutting it a little close to the wire, eh?" He made a face but sounded amused.

"I practically had t' move the sea t' be here." She crossed her arms, "Jack. What's the venture?"

He grinned at her but spoke to the woman, "Madame Bridgett, this will most likely take a spell. Why don't we get Emera sorted in her get up whilst I tell her what's what."

"Not a problem." Madame Bridgett already had a collection of clothes draped over her arms, "Yuh best take off those clothes, girly."

"What?" Emera whipped around to look at her and was met by stern but kind look.

She sighed and began stripping herself down to her undergarments. As she did so, Jack took a seat in a chair and delved into what he had planned. He decided to start at the beginning, it being the logical place to start. After he and Emera had parted in Tortuga, he had traveled down to either La Martinique or St. Dominique. Quite frankly he couldn't really remember. He plunged into the story head first. It was all about a brothel (that sounded like it might have actually been a convent) and his dealings there. Apparently Jack had had a rather interesting run in with one of the women. She had even tried to kill him at one point. He had been looking for word of his ship and ended up finding her instead. When he left, he had sailed _The Jolly Mon_ back up along Hispaniola, keeping to the shallows and stopping often. While docked at a small port he heard talk of an incredible 'bit of shine.' The treasure in question happened to be located in none other than Free Port. He dropped off at Tortuga to leave Emera the note, then sailed as fast as he cold to the Grand Bahamas.

"The Masquerade I mentioned is where this piece is being featured." He concluded as Emera was being laced into a corset.

"But," She strained to speak against the tension restraining her ribs, "what is it that we're after? And why do ya need me?"

"It's the Golden Peacock Mask. Said to be crafted by the Goddess Hara herself." He lent an air of mystery to his voice and spoke with a flourish of one hand.

"Golden Whats'it Mask?" She repeated flatly.

Jack cleared his throat, annoyed, and said slower "Peacock. Mask. Made of solid gold and set with all manner of precious jewels and metals."

"How... how much..." She tried to speak as a layer of clothing was being pulled on over her head, "How much is it worth?"

"A fortune." He reassured her, "But the only way to get close to it is-"

"The Masquerade Ball." She finished for him, "Now I'm beginning t' understand."

"Help me and we split the prize right down the middle. Fifty, fifty." He gave her a nod and grinned again.

"What's the catch?" She was certain there had to be one.

"Isn't one." He shrugged, "That's the beauty of it."

"I don't believe you." Emera laughed, "No doubt it'll be dangerous..."

Jack gave in to that, "Perhaps. If we're caught it'll surely be the gallows for us."

"Hmm." Emera nodded and pretended to consider the risk, "And what if I refuse t' help you? My father's hold is loaded t' the brim with shine. So the promise of riches doesn't really motivate me."

"I don't think you'll pass this up." He replied as he studied her carefully.

"Ya hardly know me well enough t' make that sort of assumption, Captain Sparrow." She remarked coolly.

Emera studied him as well. She took in every inch of him. His eyes, his face, the curve of his neck, his lips... they were all so inviting. A familiar pounding started in her chest as became aware of what was happening. Not an hour in one another's company and already she was under the spell of his charm. She silently cursed him and tried to focus on complying to Madame Bridgette and Kay's commands of 'move here' and 'hold this.'

Jack tilted his head to one side, leaning back in his chair, "You don't think I know you, eh? I know you can't pass up temptation like this. You life for it, Darling. The running, the fighting, the thrill of danger around every bend... you love that more than life itself. If you didn't than you'd have never come along with me all those months ago."

"A lucky guess." She tried not to smile but knew he was right.

"Is it lucky to guess that if you say 'no' to this, you'll go back to your little ship and sit in your little cabin and wonder what you've missed out on?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

"I don't... I don't have a cabin." She was losing ground in their banter.

"But she will sit around and sulk, if that's what yer asking." Kay chimed in, a knowing smirk on her face.

"You, I like. And trust me, Love. You want this. I can see it in your eyes." Jack was visibly confident now that Kay had sided with him, "You can hardly resist the promise of adventure. Come with me, and I'll share with you all the thrills and sensations that you so desperately crave. What say you?"

"The answer was always going t' be yes." Emera confirmed with a soft smile.

"I know, Darling." He returned her expression with an amused sort of softness in his dark eyes, "Never doubted it for an instant."

The room fell silent, with Emera and Jack staring at one another in that oddly comfortable and understanding sort of way. It was just as it had been seven months ago when they first met. Being around him, for all its nerve-wracking, awkward and distressing features, was incredibly easy. As though they had known one another for all their lives.

"I like this one, Little Sparrow." Madame Bridgett laughed as she put the finishing touches on Emera's ensemble, "She's a much better doux-doux for yuh than some of those other gyuls. Yuh should think about marrying this one and finally settling down."

In perfect symmetry that couldn't have been more precise if it had been choreographed and practised, Emera and Jack looked away from each other. The effort that went into not making eye contact was, in Emera's case, as extreme as turning to face the other direction. She could feel her face getting hot and knew she had gone flush. From behind her, Jack made a noise in the back of his throat before clearing it with an obviously forced cough. The look on Kay's face was priceless as she stifled her laughter and all the while Madame Bridgett simply smiled, evidently pleased with her ability to raise the level of discomfort in a room so quickly.

"She's not my doux-doux." Jack finally said in a matter of fact way.

"Oh?" Madame Bridgett feigned surprise, "I could have sworn she was... what with how the two of yuh were going on with each other like that."

"What's a doux-doux?" Kay asked, still smiling from ear to ear.

"Yuh know," Madame Bridgett shrugged, "doux-doux. I think yuh call them 'sweethearts' but where I come from we say doux-doux."

Emera, more composed than she was before, forced herself to laugh, "He's not my sweetheart."

"She's far too obstinate." Jack pointed out.

"And he's much too egocentric." She remarked.

"Oi!"

"You started it."

"Par les puissances, vous deux pourriez aussi bien se marier." Kay rolled her eyes but smiled, "Em, can ya stop whatever-this-is long enough t' at least look at yerself? We've finished putting you together."

"What?" The young sailor glanced at her friend then looked down at herself, "Oh."

"There's a mirror over there, girly." Madame Bridgette pointed across the room.

Emera followed her gesture and was met by the gaze of a woman she didn't recognize, wearing a gown that took her breath away. She could hardly believe it was her reflection.


	5. Part 5

The moment Emera and Kay returned to _The Rose_, the young sailor safely stowed her costume for the Masque in her trunk of belongings. It barely fit, there were so many parts. As she closed the trunk lid, she was terrified she would crush the mask Madame Bridgett gave her. It was her favorite part of the costume. It was black with elaborate golden trim. Glimmering filigree sat around the eyes of the half-face. And a wide brim surrounded the top potion of the piece, curving down one side, mimicking the front of a hat. Pinned upon the left of the brim were two fabric roses, one black and the other gold, with bits of dark satin ribbon. It was utterly stunning. When she saw it, Emera wanted it so badly she could hardly stand it. Madame Bridgett must have been able to tell because she gave it to the young sailor without a second thought. She had called it a gift.

Once the costume was safe, the two girls made their way to the galley. The room was deserted. Only Cookie was present, tidying up around the stove. He greeted them happily and took a seat in a chair near the kitchen. The two girls set to clearing a space in the hall so there would be room for Emera to practice dancing. Following Cookie's instructions the girls took their places in the center of the hall. The old sailor kept time by banging his crutch on the deck while shouting out the directions.

After half an hour, Emera was ready to quit. She had a tendency to lead instead of follow, which often resulted in her either being stepped on or tripping. Kay had tried her best to stand in as Emera's partner, but their height wasn't a good match. The buxom Pirate Lass was much shorter than Emera was, which lead to several problems regarding leg-length and as a result step length. Failure after failure had left Emera feeling frustrated with herself.

"Ow! Kay mind yer ruddy feet! Ya stepped on my foot again!" Emera snapped sharply.

"Well maybe if ya stopped trying t' _lead_ we wouldn't have this _problem_!" Kay argued back, popping her hands onto her hips.

Cookie dropped his face into his palm and sighed, "Come now Me-Emmy, ya nearly had it that time. Once more and ye'll get it. I know it, I."

"This is ridiculous!" Emera shouted as she kicked an unsuspecting chair, "I'm no good at this! How do people do it?!"

"It's just dancing, Em." Kay smiled a little, "It's not that hard."

Emera slumped down on the floor, leaning back against a table, "I wasn't built for this kinda thing. I'm far t' gangly. I barely know where I'm stepping! This was a mistake... this was a horrible, horrible mistake! I never should have agreed t' this!"

"Calm down Em." Kay squatted next to her friend, "It's going t' be alright. We'll figure something out."

"Ya nearly had it that time, ya did." Cookie smiled, "Try it again. Just once more."

"I should be familiarizing myself with the layout of the party... I don't know where it is or what it looks like. I'm going in practically blind! Dancing is a waste of time! I need to prepare for a fight t' break out! Not a minuet!"

"Em." Kay said flatly, "Get a hold of yerself! Yer acting like a Nigit! Now stand up, brush yerself off and try again!"

Emera stared at her friend for a moment. Kay was right, she was over reacting. But she couldn't help it. The young sailor was nearly petrified with fear. The part about not knowing what she was getting herself into was true. She didn't. Jack hadn't given her any details about where the party was taking place. This, of course, lead her to believe that he was just as clueless as she was. If only she had thought to ask him earlier. They would be going in without knowing where the mask was or how to find it or how to get out once they had it. Learning to dance was the least of her worries... but at the moment it was the only thing she had any control over.

Emera nodded slowly, "I'm sorry... yer right. Let's try again."

"Good." Kay beamed and helped her to her feet.

They moved out onto the floor and took their places. The dance they were learning was the minuet. Cookie claimed that it was popular and that it was the most logical one to learn. He took up his crutch again, striking it at even intervals against the floor, keeping time. He called out the steps, which the two girls attempted to follow. They came together, gripping hands lightly, then moved apart again. They moved in circles, turned around one another and walked in straight lines. In theory it should have been simple, however Emera was having a world of trouble keeping the movements straight. She would go one way when she meant to go the other or turn when she meant to step to one side. It was as though her limbs weren't actually attached to her body. Suddenly she had become a marionette doll, her strings being pulled by an invisible puppet master. She fought against herself, desperately trying to move in the right way. She stumbled again and let out a shout of frustration.

Cookie chuckled, "Ya nearly had it that time, ya did! Once more and I know it'll be perfect!"

Emera opened her mouth to snap a reply at him, something about him 'saying that last time and the time before that' but she was cut off by someone entering the galley. Annoyed at herself, she spun on her heel with the intention of screaming at whoever it was. Luckily she managed to stop herself. Her father strode into the room with a grim look on his face. Clearly he was just as irritated as Emera was.

"What the _bloody Hell_ is going on down here?!" He fumed, "Up in my cabin and all I can hear is _bang, bang, bang_! And before that it sounded like ya were moving the ruddy furniture about!"

They could only gawk in terrified silence before Cookie cleared his throat and stepped in for them, "Ya see Captain, it is we're helping the young Master Flint learn t' -"

Emera let out a sound that resembled choking in an attempt to silence the man. The last thing she wanted was for him to know what they were up to. The conversation about the dress had been bad enough. But him knowing that she was taking time away from her duties in order to learn how to dance would be more than she could bare. All she got was an irritated look from the old Cook and a concerned glance from her father.

Kay finished the explanation, "Learn t' dance, Sir. She doesn't know how and is worried she'll make a fool of herself tomorrow."

"Aye, that be true Captain." Cookie nodded, "Young thing's right useless at it. Would take a miracle to teach her, it would. Sorry, Me-Emmy."

Flint visibly relaxed and let out a rumbling chuckle, "By the stars, why didn't ya say so in the first place? Ye'll never learn t' dance like this! What ya need is a teacher what actually knows where his feet are."

"Oi!" Cookie glared at him.

"Emmett me Love, we both know yer rubbish at dancing." Flint said with a smile.

"I'm better than you, ya old coot!" Cookie shot back, "Last time I saw ya dance was in the Navy! I doubt ya can even keep yer footing, I do!"

"Of the two of us," Flint smirked, "which has a wife?"

Cookie grumbled under his breath.

"And how," Flint crossed to Emera and offered her his hand, "do ya think I won over my fair Lady? It certainly wasn't by sailing. Now, keep time and watch carefully. Ya might just learn something ya craggy Bung Nipper."

With that, Flint began. He bowed to Emera and she curtsied in response. From there he lead her in the dance. At first it seemed as though everything was going well. Emera followed her father's movements carefully and mirrored his steps. It looked like she might actually be getting it but then came the turn she had been dreading. Her toe caught on her own heel as she stepped and the young sailor all but fell on her face. Frustrated at her own feet she broke out into a wave of cursing. She even made a kick at the innocent chair again. The minuet just wasn't her forte. It wasn't how she was used to dancing. Emera's experience in such matters had always involved a lot of alcohol and an equally large amount of spinning or stomping. She had no talent for the refined. Her father gave her a reassuring smile, then they tried it again. Emera followed her father's lead for the second time. She stared at his feet in a desperate effort to match his every step precisely. She felt uncertain on her own feet, almost as though she had spent too much time on land. But she was improving.

"Hold on, hold on." Flint waved a hand to silence Kay and Cookie, "Emera, do that step again."

She did, "Like this?"

"Aye..." He watched her move, "What are ya doing, Bean? Look at yer feet, are they chained together? Yer moving like Cookie."

"Oi!" Cookie argued.

"Shut it!" Flint waved his hand again, "Now, I've seen ya fight, Bean. I know that you can move. Dancing is just like swordplay. It's all about yer foot work. Take a fighting stance."

"Right." Emera nodded.

She got into position, her lead foot pointing forward and her back foot taking the majority of her weight. The young girl bent deeply at the knees, lowering her center of gravity. Her left hand took its usual position behind her back while her right mimicked holding a sword. Emera nodded at Flint again, signaling that she was ready. He chuckled and crossed over to her.

"Good... good." He smiled, "Perfect if we were sparing but all wrong for dancing."

"But you just said- " Emera argued, straightening.

"What are ya doing?! Back into position!" He snapped playfully, "I know what I said."

"Make up yer mind." Emera grumbled, holding the stance.

Flint walked around her in a slow circle, "Now then, like I said this is rubbish for dancing. But with a few modifications ye'll be set."

He walked around her once again, however this time he made adjustments as he went. A tap here to tell her to drop a hand, a nudge there for her to straighten, a soft kick to bring her legs together. By the time he was finished she was standing straight up, her legs together and her feet in the 'L' position that came from the fighting stance.

"Much better." Flint grinned, "Keep yer weight on yer back foot. Perfect. Hold yer arms out on either side and we'll give it another shot. Cookie! Get that crutch o' yers ready!"

It seemed to Emera that they must have practised half a hundred times. Over and over and over again, they went through the steps. Whether it was because she genuinely needed to go over the dance that many times or if the others were just using it as a distraction, Emera couldn't tell. All she knew was that by the time they finally called it a night, she was too exhausted to worry about anything that might happen the following night. She wondered, as she made her way back to her cabin, if Jack had been torturing himself with practise as well. Somehow she rather doubted it. Still, the idea of him prancing around an Inn room somewhere made her smile. Emera suspected that one way or another, she would eventually find out. She hoped all her practising would be worth it.

The next day came on and went by surprisingly quickly. She was still fretting over the unknowns of what was about to take place, but her duties helped to distract her. Before Emera realized it the afternoon was beginning to wear itself out. And it was time to get ready. Flint had given her leave to use his cabin. She washed as best she could, then was planted in a chair so Kay could take a crack at taming her unruly locks. She used a fine toothed comb made of a tortoise shell, working through them slowly. The comb was designed to not only straighten out one's hair but also remove anything that might be living in it. Emera sat gripping the edge of the chair as her mane was yanked at. She clenched her teeth to keep herself from swearing each time Kay's comb ripped out a knot. After awhile the process became less painful until finally there was nothing but gentle pulling.

"Ya know, with yer hair so short there's not much I can do with it." Kay said as she worked, "Still, I suppose I could braid yer bangs if ya like. At least that way they'll stay out of yer eyes."

"Alright." Emera nodded, "Anything to keep my vision clear."

Kay chatted happily as she braided, "Jack made quite the fetching young gentlemen, don't you think?"

"Aye. It certainly surprised me." Emera smiled a little to herself.

"Now that I've met him, I can tell why ya like him so much." Kay continued, "He's just as charming as you said... and handsome too. I'm surprised you left that part out."

"I hadn't noticed." She shrugged through the blatant lie.

"_Of course_ you haven't." Kay laughed, "Well, I'm certain ye'll notice tonight."

"What makes you so sure?" Emera raised an eyebrow.

"Just a feeling." There was a smile present in her voice, "Here, take a look at yerself."

She passed Emera a small hand mirror. The young sailor stared at the reflection in the glass. She was accustomed to seeing a grim coated, stringy haired, craggy young Pirate. Not a well groomed, clean young Lady. She was amazed at how different she looked without the thick rings of kohl around her eyes or the tangles in her hair. It was just as shocking as seeing herself in the dress the day before.

"Oh dear Lord..." She breathed, "What have ya done t' me?"

"I've made you look presentable." Kay beamed proudly.

"I don't look like myself at all." Emera blinked a few times in amazement.

"Then ye'll pass perfectly for a Lady of the court." Kay rolled down her sleeves, "Now have you got everything ya need?"

"I think so." Emera replied, standing and stretching.

The two went over the components of the gown at least three times before Emera started to get dressed, making sure everything they needed was there. It was a wonder wealthy women left the house at all, considering how long it took to dress. It turned out to be fortunate that Kay had accompanied Emera to Madame Bridgett's the previous day. Had she not, the two girls would no doubt be lost in all the fabric of the gown. However they were able to muddle through the steps together and by the end of it the dress seemed to be on correctly without any leftover pieces laying about.

Looking at herself in Flint's full length mirror, Emera looked at herself once again. The dress was in the Polonaise style which meant that it gathered in swags at her lower back. Emera had seen such dresses from time to time in shop windows, but she never thought she would wear one. The base layer of fabric was of gold brocade which happened to be, she noticed, the same pattern as Jack's waistcoat. The layer over that was of fine black linen and opened up down her front so as to show off the gold beneath. The black linen sleeves stopped just above her elbows but the gold spilt out from underneath, taking the shape of a bell. Overtop everything she wore an underbust bodice of black brocade and gold fastenings. The finishing touch was the mask, which went with everything so beautifully that it made her look as though she were something out of a faerytale.

"Yer lovely." Kay smiled at her through the mirror.

"I feel like I weigh as much as a ship." She allowed herself to laugh despite feeling like she might fall over.

"You'll be fine." Kay squeezed her shoulder affectionately, "Come on. He should be at the docks by now."

The two friends made their way to the main deck. Almost all of the crew had gone ashore for a much needed break, leaving the ship nearly empty. As a result Emera didn't have to worry about being given a hard time about her appearance. When they reached where the longboats were stored, Flint was waiting for them. Like any good father he made a show of how lovely she was and how proud he was of her. The goodbye went quickly and rowing ashore took little time at all.

When Kay and Emera reached the docks Jack was waiting for them. He was clad in his costume, sporting his usual leather tricorn and a simple black mask as the only additions. Behind him an open-faced carriage was waiting with Elijah in the driver's seat. A flutter of anxiety worked its way through Emera's chest as she and Kay walked down the docks to meet Jack. She took a deep breath to steady herself and hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Your late." Jack said sternly, but smiled.

"I'd like t' see you put on one of these and arrive anywhere on time." She joked back.

"I have." He shrugged, "And I don't recall my punctuality suffering for it."

"You'll have t' tell me that story some time." Emera beamed at him.

Jack offered her his arm, "I really should. It's a rather good one."

"You two should get going." Kay tucked her hands into her pockets, "Wouldn't want t' be late t' yer own robbery."

"I know I've said this before," Jack pointed at Kay, "but her, I like."

The matching pair got into the carriage and started down the cobbled street, their friend waving them off from the docks. Now that she was with Jack, Emera's nervousness was replaced by excitement. The sun was going down, she was seated next to a fine gentleman and they were on their way to what was sure to be a grand celebration. As the carriage rolled along at an even pace Jack filled her in on the final details of the evening. The Masque, it turned out, was not only in celebration of midsummer's but was honoring the hostess's fiftieth birthday as well. The Duchess Lavinia Folconi and her husband Augustus were holding the party in their extravagant sprawl of gardens. However Jack suspected that the Golden Mask would be kept inside the manor house.

As they went over their plan, Emera noticed the loose cravat around Jack's neck, "Is that meant to be untied?"

"Hmm?" He looked down and pulled a face, "Oh. Forgot about that."

He fumbled with the fabric for a moment, before Emera finally said, "How is it yer an accomplished sailor but you can't tie a cravat?"

"It's less to do with the actual tying and more to do with it being around my neck." He made a face, scrunching his nose.

"Pirate." She smirked at him, "Here, let me."

She took up the thin fabric and looped it around his neck a few times. Honestly, tying it wasn't that difficult. It was just a small matter of tucking, folding and tying. How he didn't know what to do somewhat astonished her. Still, he had a point about it being around his neck. Jack, like all Pirates, likely feared being hanged. It was a completely understandable terror. Emera tucked the ends of the complete cravat under the front of his waistcoat and smoothed it down, letting her hands rest on his chest.

"How do you know how to do that?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm good with knots." She shrugged, "There, all finished. Now ya look like a proper young man."

He flashed her another smile and placed a hand on her waist. His eyes studied her face, or at least what he could see of it behind her mask. The riot of feelings she hadn't experienced since their parting bombarded her chest. His nose brushed hers as he leaned towards her. She thought it funny how the intense feelings only overwhelmed her when the pair of them were in close-quarters. When he kept his distance, she could function normally. The instant he came near, however, was a completely different story all together.

_'Don't you dare punch him this time.'_ She told herself sternly as she remembered the first time something like this had happened between them.

Unfortunately it didn't matter. Just as Emera was sure her lips would meet Jack's, the carriage gave a lurch. The two Pirates were flung in opposite directions and found themselves sprawled out on the seat of the carriage, laughing hysterically. As they righted themselves Emera couldn't help but wonder what the chances were?

"Sorry 'bout that. We're here." Elijah called over his shoulder as he brought the carriage to a halt before a huge rot-iron gate.

"Hold on a tick, I almost forgot something." Jack said, then turned so he was facing Emera.

Jack patted his pockets as though looking for something. He made a face then looked down at his hand and smiled. He set to working a ring off of his left pinky. It rather took some doing. He made a few faces as he twisted the small golden ornament this way and that. Finally it came loose allowing him to pull it off. He held it up to Emera with a smile. Her heart practically stopped in her chest as she recognized what he was doing.

"Emera Flint... Darling." He said softly, "Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"


	6. Part 6

Emera couldn't move. She could hardly breathe. In fact, the only thing she seemed capable of was blinking. She stared at Jack, not believing that she had truly heard the words that escaped his lips only a moment before. Her legs had gone to jelly and she thanked her lucky stars that she had been sitting. It was several minutes before the young sailor started to become aware of her body again. She found she was able to open her mouth but was still incapable of making noise.

After what felt like an age, she found voice, "Wha... what did you just say?"

"I asked you to be my wife." Jack said furrowing his brow, "Are you alright, Love?"

"I'm fine... I just..." She didn't know what she was.

He took hold of her hand, "I know it's not the most desirable option. Even if I believed in such things I wouldn't want to marry me. While I am implausibly fantastic at everything, I'm rather certain I would be rubbish at husbanding. In any case, the folk I swiped our invitation from are married, hence half the reason I required you on this venture. It would be best if we at least attempted to play the part. So let me put the ring on you already."

Emera had to bite her lower lip to keep herself from bursting out into laughter. She had, in all truth, allowed herself to think that his proposal was an honest one. If that had been the case, she didn't know what she would have done. Relief swept over her like a wave leaving only giddiness in its wake. She nodded at him and smiled. Jack gave her a concerned look. Apparently that was all she needed. A snort escaped from her. She clamped her free hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to keep her laughter in as he slid the ring around her finger. It didn't work.

"Alright, Love?" He asked, straightening.

She nodded, to busy sucking back air to issue a reply. The restraints of her corset made it difficult to get enough. She braced her hands on her lower back and straightened herself, gazing up at the open sky so she wouldn't have to look at him. Emera was sure that if she did she would start laughing again.

"I'm fine." She managed, still looking up, "I'm fine. Ya just gave me one Hell of a fright, is all. I thought I was going mad!"

"You thought I was sincere?" She could hear the grin in his voice.

"What was I supposed to think?" She finally looked at him and gestured wildly, still giggling.

"I have a flare for theatrics." He said with a shrug and a flourish of his hand.

She shoved him playfully, "Well yer _theatrics _nearly stopped my heart. Now come on, _husband_, we should go."

"Aye, I think we should." He agreed with a wide smile.

The two Pirates disembarked the carriage, one (meaning Jack) more gracefully than the other. They said a quick so-long to Elijah who promised he would wait for them. Then they passed through the gate and started up the long cobblestone lane towards the house. Large trees lined the road on either side all the way up to the manor. The house was in the classical style, with clean white walls. Smooth pillars made the building look like a Greek temple. In the center of the manors face, leading up to the massive front doors was a set of double stairs facing out in each direction. Huge paned windows sat at even intervals in the white walls, looking out between the pillars. Laying at the foot of the grand manor was an elaborate garden with wild looking plants that Emera had seen in the depths of island jungles.

"Your name is Mary, by the way." Jack said in a calm tone as they drew closer to the house, "Mine's Robin. We're the Goodfellow's, newlyweds, married just last spring. We met through your Aunt who is a dear friend of my Mother's. We fell in love instantly. Up until rather recently we've been staying with my Uncle in the English countryside, but we sailed out here three months ago in order to raise a family in the New World. I think it's a brilliant idea, you're still not convinced. We want four children, two boys and two girls, but we're waiting until we've gotten settled. We know Duke Folconi through your father, whom I'm in the merchant business with. You keep house however you do rather enjoy taking afternoon strolls. You take your tea with two sugars, I take mine plain, savvy?" He finally broke off for a breath.

"You've really done yer research, haven't ya?" Emera blinked at him, amazed that he could remember so many trivial details.

"Not really." He shrugged, his eyes gleaming out from under his mask, "I made up about half of it."

"Which half?" She asked, slightly concerned.

His only response was a wink and what any other person would have deemed to be a charming smile. Emera stuck out her tongue at him. She knew everything would be just fine, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something might go horribly wrong. It was only then that she recalled the strange hooded figure she had seen in the tavern.

"Jack..." She said softly, tightening her grip on his arm.

"Aye, Love?" He replied.

"What are the chances of someone else coming after this Mask?" She asked.

He thought for a moment, "Of how many others might know of its location, I really couldn't say, Darling. However I can assure you that I've got everything else completely under control. You needn't worry your pretty little head."

She gazed at him, silent, then asked, "You think I'm pretty?"

"Well, at this particular moment... and in the right light... I'd say that you aren't fully difficult to look at." He said, his face stoic, then he cracked a grin.

Emera laughed, "In that case, I'll have you know that yer only half as wretched as I first thought."

He raised his chin a little and looked down the length of his nose at her, "Which half?"

She mimicked his earlier response, simply winking and flashing him a smile. He grinned at her, clearly pleased. Emera found it somewhat funny. If she spent her whole life following him around she was certain that she would never fully understand what delighted him and what didn't. It seemed to vary widely. One sort of joke left him looking grim while another wholly serious statement would make him laugh. It appeared as though his sense of humor had been put in his body the wrong way round. Although with Jack, that wasn't the only thing about him that looked to be back to front. Emera found herself in constant awe of his peculiarities whenever in his company. It was unique and something she greatly enjoyed attempting to keep up with.

Jack lent her some support as they climbed up the steps of the manor together. The clear presence of him beside her was comforting. And besides, she felt like she could topple over at any moment under all that fabric. Emera found that her nerves seemed to calm the closer they got. The grand double doors of the house stood open. Two men, servants, stood on either side of the entryway. Both were dressed in matching formal attire. They regarded Emera and Jack in a professional, almost unconcerned, way. The one on the right stepped from his post to meet them in front of the massive doors.

"Your invitation, Sir." He held out a hand.

Jack reached into his frock coat and pulled out a glossy piece of paper which bore intricate handwriting. He passed it to the serving man, who snatched it with a slight flick of his wrist. He read over it quickly, his expression never differing from vague interest. When the man was satisfied he passed the invitation back to Jack and stepped from their path.

"The Masque is being held in the back garden. Proceed down the first corridor to the left and straight on through the library." He told them in a polite yet brisk tone.

The two nodded in response and hurried into the manor. The outside, impressive as it was, could not compare to the interior. The space folded out before them in a grand foyer. In the center of the room sat a large marble staircase which was flanked on either side by two identical corridor entrances. The floor was also marble, patterned in simple black and white. The peeked ceiling above them rose impossibly high, holding in place the biggest chandelier Emera had ever seen. It glimmered with the glow of countless candles which set the room below in a bath of light. The young sailor could have gawked at the room for hours but Jack took her arm and lead her down the left hand corridor. Here doors were set into the walls every few steps. Some were open, leading into other equally glorious rooms. Others remained tightly shut. As they made their way towards the library, Emera wondered how Jack was managing to contain himself. She could hardly think straight from wanting to explore the recesses of the manor. Curiosity burned at her insides, screaming for her to discover what secrets might be afoot.

When they reached the library, Emera thought her heart might stop. It was two floors, the shelving reaching right up into the shadows of the ceiling. There must have been thousands of books just waiting to be yanked from their resting places. She had never seen so many pages in one place. The space smelt heavily of old parchment and candle wax. Emera couldn't help but take a few deep breaths, filling herself with it. No doubt all the answers to any questions she might have lay somewhere within that library. As they passed a long table in the center of the room Emera noticed that it was littered with maps. Some looked old and others looked as though they were still being charted. The young sailor nudged Jack with her elbow, nodding towards the maps. She saw a glimmer of interest in his eyes as they gave the table a once over. He smiled at her and leaned in close.

"We'll have to come back this way and see if we can't tuck a few of those into our pockets, eh?" He whispered, glee in his voice.

"Agreed." Emera beamed at him.

They finally came to stand before a large French-style door. To their surprise a few other people stood there as well. They seemed to be waiting in some sort of line. Both Jack and Emera craned their necks, trying to see around the others. It was no use. But listening, they could hear the sounds of music, laughter and light conversation coming from the other side of the door. The two glanced at one another, both at a loss as to why they were being made to wait. A loud drawling voice said something at the front of the line and the couple there moved out into the garden.

"By the sea and stars, is this the announcement line?" Came a beautifully feminine voice from behind Emera and Jack, "Serves me right for being late, I suppose."

They both turned to see a woman of pure radiance standing after them in line. Emera and Jack passed another glance, silently asking one another if the woman had been there the whole time or if they simply hadn't heard her come up behind them. She was beyond stunning. The woman looked like something out of a Botticelli painting with long golden hair falling to the center of her shoulder blades in loose curls. The gown she wore was the colour of the sea, matching her eyes, and accented in touches of silver. It was in the Mantua style, falling well past her feet with sleeves that hung near her elbows. She could have been the ocean itself. Even as she stood still the fabric seemed to ripple about her, catching the light and dancing somewhere between every shade of blue. Her half-mask was silver, with blue jewels and ribbons spilling from its corners. It glimmered in the low light of the library, catching and tossing the glow of the candles.

Emera had to elbow Jack to stop him from gawking, "I'm afraid you'll have t' excuse my _husband_. He's been at sea and has no doubt mistaken you for a mermaid."

"That wouldn't be a bad guess." The woman smiled, her voice like honey, "But I'm meant to be a water nymph."

"And what a gorgeous water nymph you are." Jack said, clearly recovered from his slight daze.

"Your husband is so forward." The woman remarked as a smile played around the corners of her mouth, "But with such a beautiful wife, I don't see why he would even bother paying a strange woman compliments. Sir, your flattery would be better served praising her, not I."

"And how absolutely right you are, Mrs...?" Jack pressed his palms together, bowing slightly before wrapping an arm around Emera's waist.

"It's Miss, actually." She corrected kindly, "But I think we're rather past formality. You may call me Caroline. And you two are?"

"Capt -" Jack started.

Emera elbowed him for the third time since leaving the cart, "Robin. His name is Robin and I'm Mary. We're pleased t' meet you Caroline."

"The pleasure is all mine." She replied graciously, "Meeting honest people is so rare these days. Especially at galas like this. I find that most people of our rank prefer being self-important over a sincere conversation. Are you two from the island?"

"Relatively new residences." Jack answered, "We're hoping to start a family in the New World."

Emera had to bight her tongue to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

"Ah, newlyweds!" Caroline clapped her hands together excitedly, "How wonderful for you! And Mary, might I say what an exquisite ring that is."

Emera looked down at her hand for the first time and genuinely smiled, "Thank you."

It was breath taking. The ring band was wide and made of gold. A smooth button shaped pearl, black as night, sat in the center. Around the precious centerpiece was a twisted rope-like pattern and filigree metal work with a scallop edge. The ring was heavy on her hand, but the weight was oddly comforting. It was bizarre to wear a wedding band, even if it was just make-believe. The young sailor had never imagined that she would ever bare such a symbol. From a young age Emera had known she would never get married. What kind of a man would ever want to put up with a woman like her? She glanced at Jack and smiled to herself. What kind of a man, indeed.

"It belonged to my Grandmama." Jack explained, "She... err... _gave_ it to me when I was only a Lad."

"What a touching story." Caroline placed a hand on her chest, looking honestly moved by what he had said, "It must be of tremendous sentimental value. And to give it to the woman you love... what a beautiful gesture."

"Aye, he's thoughtful like that." Emera fought to keep the sarcasm out of her voice as smirked at Jack.

He pinched her waist a little in a silent rebuttal before saying, "Well, any man would want to dote upon so lovely a bride as this."

"It is refreshing to see a young couple so in love." Caroline beamed at them, "I hope we have time again to chat later this evening."

She swept past them gracefully and stepped out the door. Apparently the line had diminished itself while the three had been talking. Caroline spoke softly to another serving man who was dressed identically to the two by the main doors. He nodded a few times as she whispered to him, then bowed and turned to face the garden.

"Announcing Miss Caroline Thálassa-Kóri̱, Lady of Corinth!" The serving man called out in a voice that echoed over the gardens.

Caroline nodded to the man before sweeping out to join the Ball. Emera and Jack exchanged another look, then copied what they had just seen. Together they stepped through the door and out into the night air. The garden lay just beyond a large circular inlay of flagstone upon which the other guests were standing. The Masquerade was an ocean of extravagant costumes. Everywhere the two Pirates looked was nothing but colour and fabric. It was almost dizzying. Tall candelabras had been set out all along the flagstone, casting light over the guests as they chatted and danced. Somewhere to the right a string orchestra was flooding the garden with gentle music. Emera's stomach gave a nervous jolt when she noticed all the armed guards slowly patrolling the perimeter of the party. She opened her mouth with the intention of telling Jack, but she didn't get the chance.

"Your invitation, Sir." The new serving man sounded just as the previous one had.

Jack produced their invitation for the second time, mumbling something under his breath as he did so. He passed it to the man who gave it a quick once over before handing it back. At least this doppelganger didn't feel the need to be as scrupulous as his predecessor. He handed the parchment back and once again turned to face the garden.

"Announcing Lord and Lady Goodfellow!" He called out, then he said softly so only they could hear, "Milord, Milady, my complements on your most daring choice of costumes."

Jack tipped his hat to the man, bending slightly at the waist as he did so. Emera followed suit, dipping in a quick curtsy. They stepped away from the serving man and out into the throng of the party. Somewhere, albeit in the far distance, thunder rolled across the sky. Glancing up, Emera could see the thick cover of clouds over head, threatening to give way to rain. She hoped it would hold off until they found the Mask. After that, a storm would be the least of their worries. It would take a miracle to get past all those guards once they had their prize.


	7. Part 7

"Of all the things we could have dressed as," Emera whispered as the pair waded through the crowed, "why did it have t' be _Pirates_? You'd think that between the two of us we would have come up with something a little more _discreet_."

Jack's reply was a wide, knowing smile that lit up his eyes with mischief.

Emera looked at him flatly, "We stick out something fierce. Someone's bound t' notice that we don't fit it."

To this Jack said in a self-assured tone, "In my experience one simply has to act as though he or she owns the particular area in which they are located. No one suspects a thing that way. Just remember, Love: _confidence_ is _key. _Besides, can you not see that this is the perfect disguise? No one here would think Pirates foolhardy enough to dress as themselves while attempting to rob the Duchess blind. Trust me, Love. Those two fools in the donkey costume are going to be under a much sharper gaze than either you or I, savvy?"

She nodded, trying to make herself believe him, "Right. Confidence is Key."

"Precisely." Jack raised his chin, pleased, "Just keep telling yourself that, Darling. Now follow my lead."

If there was one think that Jack Sparrow wasn't, it was subtle. Even when he attempted to blend in he ended up managing to do the exact opposite. His idea of stealth was sauntering into the center of the party, gathering gazes and whispers as he went. Emera, whose arm was linked with his, was dragged along side him. As she counted the number of eyes on them she was thankful for the mask around her face. No doubt she was bright red. Jack had an incredible lack of shame. Embarrassment couldn't touch him. In fact he seemed to be enjoying himself. A grin that Emera found stupid was stretched across his face as he strode through the crowd. Something about him just looked... right. Maybe it was the clothes or maybe it was the way he was holding himself. Whatever it was, Emera wasn't able to define it. It was almost as though he was accustom to being in such an environment. He didn't seem comfortable, just... familiar. As though he was meeting with an old friend from a very long time ago.

They walked a few rounds back and forth through the crowd. The party was dizzying, like being caught in a riptide. Even with her feet solidly on the ground, the young sailor had a hard time telling which way was which. All around her people in lavish costumes blended together until they were more like one being than a collection of individuals. If it weren't for her firm hold on Jack's arm, Emera was certain she would be swept up and lost within the reeling crowd around her. The pair came to stand next to the string orchestra. The space before them housed the sprawling, shifting, disorienting collection of dancers. Groups of couples spun and twirled across the flagstone. Jack was craning his neck, looking around the garden but Emera was captivated by the performance in front of her. Now that she could see what the dance was_ meant_ to look like, she was rather impressed. The dancers seemed incredibly light on their feet, almost as though they weighed nothing at all. They all moved so gracefully that they could have easily been mistaken for tropical fish gliding through a reef. They were certainly just as colourful.

Surrounding the dancers on all sides were people watching them, laughing, talking and eating. The garden was a sea of humans all done up in fine clothing. Emera's eyes wandered from the whirl of motion on the dance floor and scanned the crowed opposite of where she and Jack were standing. She didn't know what she was looking for. The cloaked figure before whom she had been so suspicious of, perhaps. From what she could tell the guests all seemed like normal folk, gathered together and enjoying themselves. However, when her eyes fell on one man in particular her heart all but jumped into her throat. How, after all that time, could he possibly be here?

He was clad in Naval regalia: an elaborate Captain's uniform, dark blue, trimmed in gold and accented with white. The half-mask that covered his handsome face was simple, matching the blue shade of his frockcoat. Like Jack, he wore his long, dark, hair back in a low knot. Unlike Jack, his face was clean shaven, lending him to the attire with more believability. Had she not known better, Emera would have been fooled by his Naval appearance. It suited him well. At the moment he was standing by himself, somehow very separate from the large group surrounding him. Through, Emera guessed, his clear distinction from the others was simply because she knew him. She stared at the man from across the flagstone. And, as though he could feel her eyes on him, he turned to look at her. The young sailor turned away, but it was too late. The man was already striding towards her. She muttered a curse under her breath, thinking for a moment about making a run for it. But there was nowhere for her to go. Emera was utterly trapped and Calimer Devonti was baring down on her like a warship.

Of all the things she expected him to say to her, she hadn't been prepared for his courtly and gentlemanly, "Good evening, Signora."

Emera turned to Jack only to discover that her fake-husband had somehow vanished from her side without her knowing. She fought the urge to swear in frustration.

"I wonder," Cal continued, his Italian accent flavoring his words, "if I might have the honor of a dance."

"I don't -" She started.

"I must insist." His voice was overly kind, "I will not keep you long."

"I suppose I haven't much of a choice." She replied, tartly.

Cal grinned and gently took Emera's arm, "Come, Luce Stellare."

She allowed him to lead her towards the dance floor. As they reached its edge the music ended. The people who had been dancing applauded the musicians and themselves. The small orchestra flipped through their sheet music, giving the guests time to join or leave the dance as they pleased. Cal flashed Emera one more smile, then pulled her out onto the floor. They took their places among the others. The young sailor felt as though she was going to be sick as people glided into position around her. Everything her father and Cookie had taught her vanished from her memory as she stood there across from the Pirate Hunter. She couldn't remember a single thing. The music began and her body went stiff.

Calimer followed those around him and began the dance. He bowed to her, low, his arms spread. Emera copied him in a courtesy that nearly made her fall over. She didn't have much choice but to follow his lead. Causing a scene would only end badly for her. And she knew that he knew exactly that. She straightened. Cal crossed to her, offering her his hand. She took it and forced herself to breath. He just smiled, leading her into the dance along with everyone else on the floor.

"It is a strange thing, running into you here, Master Flint." He commented as they came together.

"I could say the same t' you." She stared at him hard, desperately trying not to show just how terrified she was, "How do ya know the Duchess?"

"She is an old friend of my _Stepfather_." He stressed the word.

"Yer not still sore about that, are ya?" Emera spun and quickly searched the crowed for Jack to no avail.

"What can I say." Calimer shrugged as he took her hand lightly, "He did not take too kindly to your father taking his property. Speaking of which, is he around?"

"No." Emera glared at him, "I'm here with a friend."

"That is actually relief." He admitted but his tone held an air of sarcasm, "I would have _hated_ to arrest him in front of all these people."

They broke apart and Emera watched him carefully. As he followed the steps of the dance his honey coloured eyes were locked onto her. She quickly scanned the space for Jack again and this time, she found him. He was staring at her too, only unlike her partner, he was wearing a stupid sort of amused grin. She made a face that she hoped conveyed her desperation and silently begged him to rescue her. If he understood, he didn't show it. Before she could signal him properly the dance brought her back to Calimer.

"What do you want from me, Pirate Hunter?" She hissed, keeping her voice low.

"Ultimately, I would like to complete my contract." He shrugged again.

"How can ya say that so casually?" Emera demanded in a soft snarl as they circled one another, "Pirates _hang_."

"I know that." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, "Why do you think we are still dancing?"

His question struck her like cannon fire, "What?"

"As far as anyone is concerned, tonight, you are simply a beautiful guest that I have had the pleasure of dancing with." He said into her ear, "Besides, really I am after your father. Not you. And as nether of you are technically here, because Pirates certainly _would not_ be invited to such an affair, there is no way that I could force you to lead me to him. Besides, causing a fuss would only embarrass our hosts."

"I'm I supposed t' be grateful?" Emera was losing her patience.

"That, I think, is up to you." His face darkened, "Tonight, you are safe. But know that I _will _complete my contract. Whether or not you are present when I do so, matters not to me. Like I said, I am after your father. Not you."

"I think you'll find that the path t' him involves taking a step over my dead body." Her voice shook with anger.

"That," Cal's eyes wandered across the entirety of her frame, "would be a shame."

Emera opened her mouth to reply but Jack had appeared then and placed a hand on Calimer's shoulder, "Mind if I cut it, mate?"

"Certainly, Signore." Cal nodded to him before kissing the back of Emera's hand and whispering, "Stay out of trouble, Luce Stellar."

With a short bow, Calimer Devonti was gone and Jack quickly took his place, "You look like a ship caught in irons, love. Your sails need to be backwinded."

"Well, I did just meet one Hell of a gale head-t'-wind." She told him as they rejoined the dance, rage still burning in her chest.

"Hmm." He nodded, "Something I should know about?"

"Just an… old friend." She focused on collecting what was left of her nerves, "A Pirate Hunter, actually. It's… not a pleasant story. Before I met you."

"Something I'll be told later, I assume?" He gave her a reassuring smile as he echoed her own words to her.

"Aye." She felt herself relax, "One day."

"Now then, are you any good at this?" Jack gestured widely to the dancing around them.

"Not in the slightest." She smiled at him.

"Good. Neither am I. We'll make a fine pair." With that, Jack dragged her back into step with those around them.

"Shouldn't we be at least _trying _to find the Mask?" Emera questioned.

Jack looked at her sceptically, "What do you think I'm doing?"

She realized then, as they danced together, that he was taking stock of everything around him. He was making himself a metal map of their surroundings. Following his lead, both in movement and planning, she quickly did the same. As it was the dance floor was situated in the center of the garden, it was the ideal location to gain their bearings from.

When Jack got close again, Emera asked, "Do ya see anything?"

"Not yet." He shook his head as they walked in a slow circle together.

"I figure it'd be on display in the house somewhere." Emera shrugged, speculating, "We should look for a way back in."

"It'll be a trick with all these upstanding young members of the Navy-elite about." He replied as he took her waist.

"We'll need a distraction of sorts." She glanced around as he lifted her, taking advantage of the height.

"That won't be necessary." Jack set her down again.

"What do ya mean?" She spun away from him and then back towards, "Of course we'll need a distraction. If one of us could knock over one of those candelabras and prays the grass catches fire, we might have a chance. During the mad scramble to put it out we can slip back inside."

"A good plan, to be sure." He nodded as he took her in his arms, "But I'm telling you, Love, we have a bigger problem than that."

"Eh?" She didn't understand.

Breaking from the dance steps, Jack spun her by her shoulders so she could see out into the garden. The pair of them stood in the center of the dance floor, gaping. Emera could hardly believe her eyes. The music, the dancers, the annoyed looks they were receiving... all of it faded dully into the background as she took in what Jack was showing her. It seemed impossible, but there it was. Standing next to her husband was the Duchess Folconi. And she was wearing the Golden Peacock Mask.

"Oh..." Emera shook her head slowly, in disbelief.

"_Bugger._" The two Pirates swore together.

They glanced at each other and Emera asked, "Now what? How are we supposed t' get it off her _face_?"

"Believe it or not, Love," Jack looked like he was going to be sick, "I just so happen to have a plan."

"How is that even possible?" She hissed, "What are ya going t' do? Say some of yer _swooy words_ and _charm_ her out of it."

He nodded, still looking as though he would vomit at any moment, "That, my dear Emera, is exactly what I'm going to do. The Duchess and I… err… Have a history."

"Oh my God." She stared at him, floored.

"Unfortunately not." He took her arm and swept her off the dance floor, "I can get it off her without much trouble. It's the getting it out of her that'll be the trick."

"And what, exactly, am I supposed t' do?" Emera questioned as they slipped around the side of the house and away from the party.

"See that balcony?" Jack pointed up at the second story opening.

Emera nodded, "Aye."

"That is Duchess Folconi's bedroom." He explained.

"I don't even want t' know how you know that." Emera glanced at him.

He ignored her and pulled off his satchel, "I'll get the Mask out there, you get it in here."

"How?!" Emera grabbed the front of his coat.

"Simple, Darling." He shrugged out of her grip, "Climb up the ivy lattice."

"Climb up the..." She turned to look back at the balcony, it must have been 20 feet off the ground.

"Aye. It's just like hoisting yourself up a shroud." He convinced her, "Wait for my signal and don't hurt yourself like you did last time."

"Right." She gave in, "But at least once, I would enjoy an outing with you t' not include scaling the side of a building."

"Next time. I promise." He winked at her.

She shoved him playfully then looked down at her dress and sighed, "It's a shame. I'd have liked t' keep this."

Before Jack could ask her what she meant, the young Pirate had started pulling off the first layer of her gown. By some miracle, it was easier to take off than it was to put on. She took off her mask and slipped out of the fabric skirts until she was left standing not but her shift and corset. Her petticoats, padding and gown lay crumpled at her feet. She kicked the mess under one of the bushes along the house, hiding it from view of anyone that might come that way. Jack stared at her for a moment with a strange expression on his face. An odd mixture of sympathy and approval.

"We may be able to come back for it." He pressed his satchel into her hands as he spoke.

The young sailor shrugged, tucking her mask into the bag before slinging it over her shoulder, "Even if we can't, I'm keeping this. Give us yer belt?"

"Eh?" He leaned in as though he hadn't heard her.

"I can't climb with this skirt in my way." She held out her hand.

"Fine." Jack quickly unlatched his belt, "You better not lose it."

She rolled her eyes as she buckled the leather around her waist, "Just go and say yer swooy words or what have you... but, wait, what's the signal?"

Emera looked up from the belt around her middle but he was already gone. She swore under her breath and moved to take a better look at the lattice, gathering the skirt of her shift and tucking it through the belt. Thick ivy vines worked their way between the criss-crossing planks of the lattice. It seemed sturdy enough, however the young sailor had her suspicions about whether or not it would hold her. Taking hold of a plank, she leaned against it with all her weight. It creaked a little but stayed where it was. Emera bit her lip nervously and looked up the full height of the lattice. She had gone up and down _The Rose's_ rigging more times than she could count. She was fearless when it came to being aloft amongst the sails, heights didn't scare her one bit. But on board the ship there was always plenty of rigging to hang on to or wrap around one's arm as a safety line. She supposed that a length of ivy might do the same thing if it didn't snap first. She didn't like the odds of that. It would be nothing what so ever like climbing up a shroud.

Looking up at the sky, Emera could see that the stars were hidden somewhere behind the thick cloud cover that stretched over head. Thunder boomed softly in the distance again, only just audible over the sound of laughter and music from the party. She wondered, as she stood there, if Jack had been able to lure the Duchess from the crowd. He had seemed rather confidant in his ability to get her alone. She only hoped that his faith was well placed. After a short time the sound of gentle voices wafted down from the room above. Emera pressed herself close to the wall and strained to listen. She couldn't hear what was being said but one of the voices was unmistakably Jack's. She tried to wait for him to motion to her, but long minutes ticked by without so much as a glance in her direction. At any moment someone could come wandering around the corner and if that were to happen Emera would have a hard time explaining why she was standing there in her undergarments. She simply couldn't wait any more. The signal be damned. Emera started at the lattice.

The young sailor had never worn a more useless pair of shoes in all her life. The soft souls slipped as she tried to hoist herself up the wall. Emera was only a few feet above the ground when she came to the conclusion that if she went any further she would risk breaking her neck. She slipped out of her shoes, letting them fall to the grass below. Now, no doubt looking a vision in her stockings, the Pirate hauled herself towards the balcony. The climb was hard and the ivy vines proved to be worse than useless.

"Stupid Jack Sparrow... 'Oh, come t' the _ball_, Love. It'll be _fun_! Wear a _dress_, Love. Now climb up this _wall_, Love.' Like climbing a shroud, my arse!" Emera grumbled, mimicking Jack as she scaled the wall.

Where the lattice melted into wall there was a thin ledge about the width of a playing card. Emera reached past the small jut to grasp the base of a window which stood level with the balcony. She gripped the windowsill and her shift snagged on the lattice. She could hear the fabric tearing as she hauled herself up, hugged the wall. Emera had to balance on her tiptoes as she stood aloft against the building, the thin ledge holding all of her weight. Cursing under her breath, she hoped that whatever Jack was doing, he would be quick about it.


	8. Part 8

From her position, precariously balanced upon a thin ledge, Emera could only just see through the balcony doors and into the room beyond. A figure, undoubtedly Jack, was leaning against what looked like a wardrobe. Emera tried to get his attention a few times but it was no use. He was too involved with the Duchess to notice her. Fortunately, from her new spot she could hear the on-going conversation more clearly.

"Lord Goodfellow," The Duchess' voice was overly flirtatious, "this really is most irregular. What in Heaven's name will your wife think?"

"Seeing as she not my wife, I doubt she'll think anything about it at all." Jack shrugged.

"Not your... explain yourself." The woman said, flattery replaced with suspicion.

He pulled off his mask, "Simple, Love. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

"_What _are you _doing_?!" Emera hissed under her breath as she watched the strange scene unfolding.

"Captain Sparrow." The Duchess spoke his name in little more than a whisper, "My Pirate Lover, I always knew you would return to me!"

"Lavinia." Jack forced a smile, "It's been years and you haven't aged a day."

If what he said was true, than the Duchess must have been old for a very long time. She was, in a way, still very beautiful but she couldn't be younger than 60 years. Emera could see her clearly now. The woman had crossed into view and thrown herself into Jack's arms. She was buxom, with golden hair which faded into silver strands. The young sailor couldn't see any more than that. The rest of the Duchess was consumed within the folds of her voluptuous gown and concealed behind the curves of the Peacock Mask. She clutched Jack, planting kisses across his cheeks and jaw line. He looked frozen to the spot, an expression of discomfort plastered across his face. The Pirate's arms were withdrawn over his head as though he didn't know what to do with them. Emera couldn't blame him really. He was practically being attacked by an overly friendly aunt or grandmother. An experience Emera had only gone through once while visiting Rosa's family in Spain.

The uncomfortable reunion continued for several more minutes before Jack was able to slip from her grasp and say, "Lavinia, Love, I've yet to wish you a happy birthday."

"My dashing Pirate Love, you remembered after all this time!" She made to grab him again.

Jack backed towards the balcony, arbitrarily scooping up a cane as he did so, "Aye, and I've even brought you a gift."

"You have?" She beamed at him.

"I have." He confirmed, leaning his weight on the decorated walking stick, "It's on the balcony."

"You sly devil, how did you ever get it out there?" She asked, stepping through the doors.

Emera flattened herself against the wall of the manor, hoping to vanish into the smooth bricks. Luckily, the thick growth of ivy provided all the cover she needed. Safe from her position behind the greenery, the young sailor could see everything taking place upon the balcony. The Duchess glided gracefully to the railing, followed by Jack who shot a glance towards the tangle of vines. He didn't see Emera. Instead the Pirate cleared his throat a little and sat himself upon the rail closest to the lattice.

"Look, Darling." He said loudly as he gestured with the cane, "You can see the _lighthouse_ from here. It's such a splendid view. The _lighthouse _looks marvellous, don't you think? A... a_ house_ of... of _light_. What an idea..."

Jack waved a hand towards the shore as he craned his neck, looking at the ground below the balcony. Apparently 'lighthouse' was the signal. Emera buried her face into her palm. Of course he would make reference to the last time she was perilously perched on a ledge only a breath's distance from a sheer drop. Why wouldn't he? Bringing up that rather delightful memory was just like him. She bit her tongue to keep herself from lobbing a curse or two in his general direction. With annoyance nagging her somewhere along the back of her neck, she tried to get his attention without giving herself away completely. She settled on a whistle. Jack turned when he heard the low notes, his dark eyes locked on to the mass of shrubbery. Emera whistled again and he smiled.

"Come, Lover, where's my gift?" The Duchess turned away from the view.

"Ah..." Jack tore his eyes from the greenery, "I must inform you, Darling, it's not much."

"No matter, my Love." She wrapped her arms around his neck again, "Whatever it is, I shall cherish it."

Emera rolled her eyes and stifled a snort.

Jack beamed down at the Duchess, "Close your eyes and take off your mask, Love."

"My mask?" The Duchess clutched her chest, feigning shock, "Whatever for?"

"So," Jack closed whatever distance there was between them, "I might bestow upon you a most illustrious birthday gift."

She giggled like a school-girl and closed her eyes. Then she removed the mask from her face. Jack took it from her with a devilish smile before leaning in ever more closely. What happened next nearly caused Emera to lose her footing. Jack pressed his lips to the Duchess' in what could only be described as a proper snog. With such a distraction, it must have taken a bit of luck for Emera's otherwise horrified eyes to notice what Jack was really doing. As he occupied the Duchess, he simultaneously looped the Mask's strings around the end of the cane he had swiped. Then, carefully so as not to give himself away, he held fast to one end of the walking stick while extending the other (and the Mask) out towards Emera's hiding place. It was only just barely out of Emera's reach, making her lean for it. But she got it. Her fingers grasped the smooth golden face piece and a smile stretched across her lips. As the young sailor stuffed her prize into Jack's satchel, next to her own mask, the Pirate Lad closed the kiss between himself and the Duchess. An all too pleased with himself smirk played across his lipstick smeared mouth as he pulled away.

"Captain Sparrow..." The Duchess breathed, fanning herself with one hand, "By what measure can such a gift be considered 'not much' by any degree?"

Jack smoothed the folds of his frockcoat, "My dear, you flatter me."

"No, Sir. It is you who... wait... oh..." She trailed off, "What have you done with my mask?"

Emera, who was far too concerned with not falling, didn't hear her accomplice's reply. It would be a tricky thing, to say the least, to get back down the lattice. Giving it a try her heel slipped, all but sending her plummeting to the earth below. A lightning bolt of fear ripped through her from stem to stern. Emera had to hold her breath to keep from screaming. She recovered quickly, slamming herself against the stonewall as her heart roared like canon fire in her chest. It was several moments before she could bring herself to move.

_'We are not doing that again.'_ She thought as she glanced down at the drop.

Looking around herself, she spied an open window. Emera shimmied along the thin ledge slowly, one centimeter at a time, until she reached the portal. Then, she unceremoniously threw herself over the windowsill, landing on all fours in the middle of a long corridor. She righted herself, brushing off the back of her shift, and took a look around. Inside the manor was dim, the only light coming from a pair of torches at the end of the hall. The long walls were papered in a fine floral print and hung with portraits of varying sizes. Emera was rather impressed, however the simple passage still paled in comparison to the elegance of the foyer. She mused for a moment about one day owning such a home but quickly shrugged off the idea. She would have time to fantasize later.

Emera had just began to wonder which way the closest exit would be when a set of double doors, not ten paces in front of her, burst open with a sound like thunder. Jack exploded into the hall, his arms flailing around him (the cane he had claimed still firmly in one hand) as he spun in a quick circle. When he saw Emera he frowned, confused. The young sailor could only assume that she was making a similar face. Evidently, it appeared as though the Duchess hadn't taken the disappearance of the Mask very well. Incoherent screaming flooded forth from the room Jack had just departed. Jack glanced over his shoulder for a split second before bolting down the corridor and away from Emera.

"Sparrow! Of all the - gah!" Emera yelled after him, "Wait for me!"

The instant her lead-foot came down on the floor, Emera realized why stockings and polished hardwood don't mix well. Her legs shot out from under her and she landed face down on the boards in a jumble. Pain shot through her forearms from where they had slapped the hard surface. The young sailor gritted her teeth, swearing under her breath, as she hauled herself back up. She would be damned if she'd let the likes of a hallway get the best of her. Starting off again, this time at a light jog rather than a sprint, the Pirate fought to keep her footing. Her feet slipped violently with every step as she moved to the end of the corridor. The floorboards might as well have been a frozen pond and her stockings a pair of ice-skates. She had half a mind to take them off, but the sound of the still screaming Duchess (and what Emera was certain to be military-grade boots) behind her made stopping seem like a bad idea. She didn't much fancy being thrown in prison, let alone while she was in her undergarments.

It was both a blessing and a curse that Jack hadn't bore witness to Emera's face plant. If he had, she no doubt would have been subject to his particular brand of ridicule. At least she was spared this. However, because he had carried on without her she had no idea which way it was he had gone. When she reached the window at the end of the corridor she was faced with a simple question. Right or Left? Emera glanced down each hall, looking for any sign that might tell her which way her companion had gone. It was no use. Jack hadn't left her a single marker nor any trail to follow.

"Leave it t' a sneaksby like Sparrow t' run off on me _again_!" She muttered as she tried to settle on a direction.

When the curtains of the window in front of her flew apart she hardly understood what she was seeing. The movement of the fabric caused the torch-flames, which flanked the portal on either side, to shutter. Shadows danced like phantoms as the figure behind the curtain reached out and took hold of Emera's wrists. It pulled her through the mouth of the heavy fabric, forcing her to be swallowed up. Strong arms wrapped around her tightly despite her struggling. The undescript clamped a hand over Emera's mouth, silencing a scream she hadn't been aware she was in the middle of. Emera drove an elbow into the gut of her captor and twisted around, breaking free from the grip on her mouth. Without a second thought, she plowed her fist into what felt like a face.

"Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!" Jack swore as he clutched his face, "Son-of-a-pock-ridden-Gilflurt! _Emera!_"

"Jack?! I'm so sorry!" She covered her mouth with her hands, mortified at what she had done, "Ya scared me t' death! I didn't know what t' do! I'm so sorry! What the _Hell_ are ya doing back here anyway?"

"Shh!" He hissed at her, still clutching his face and bent over nearly double with most of his weight resting on the bejewelled cane, "Do you _want_ us to be caught?! Bugger! That's the third time you've punched me! And each time you manage to crack me one, it lands in the _exact same spot_! Are you aware of this? Hell's Bells, you pack a wallop for being such a tiny waif!"

"Shite, I'm sorry Jack." Emera awkwardly patted his shoulder with one hand, not sure how she should comfort him, "Are you… alright?"

He straightened and shook his head a little as if to shrug away the pain, "I think I'll live, Darling. Now, please tell me you got the Mask."

"Aye, that I did." Emera nodded and patted the satchel happily, "Yer tactic was brilliant, by the way. Although I did almost fall t' my death."

"And I nearly had my face eaten off, so we're squared." He shrugged, "Now let's get out of here before -"

Jack was cut off by the sudden removal of the curtains from around them. A troop of three guards stood before them all armed. The one in front, who had pulled the curtains aside, looked down at the two Pirates with a mixture of anger and confusion on his face. Emera thought that she and Jack must have looked somewhat outlandish, what with his lipstick smeared (and now punch-red) face and Emera's dishevelled and inappropriate attire. In fact, Emera supposed that out of context it might look as though she was responsible for the lipstick. They were, after all, in a rather out-of-the-way and intimate location. The thought was enough to make her loose her composure, however she desperately stifled her childish giggle fit.

"Oh." Jack looked across the group and then smiled, "Good evening gentlemen. Where my wife and I disturbing you?"

Apparently Jack had jumped to the same conclusion Emera had. His cheerful tone was her undoing. Emera doubled over in a torrent of laughter, barely able to breathe through her mirth. Jack disguised a chuckled as a cough and placed a hand on Emera's shoulder.

"You'll have to excuse the Missus." Jack explained calmly, "I'm afraid she hasn't got the head required to partake in Duke Folconi's wine. She's had one too many, me thinks. Darling, how's about you and I go and track down your clothes, eh?"

The first guard's glare deepened, "Pirate, you and your accomplice are under arrest for the theft of the Golden Peacock Mask and no doubt countless other crimes!"

"Ah." Jack's cheery manner diminished, "In that case... Dearest?"

Luckily Emera managed to sober up. Straightening, despite the ach now present in her sides, she took a breath to ensure she was settled. Then, with a small smile, she propelled her fist forward and straight into the guard's jaw. Pain shot across her knuckles, causing her to swear in a most unladylike way. The man staggered back a little and into one of his comrades. Jack brandished his cane, cracking it across the shins of one of the other guards. The poor fellow crumpled over his legs and Jack struck him again across the back. By this time Emera's opponent had recovered. He grabbed a hold of her by the shoulders and held on despite her struggling.

"Reid! Go fetch Simons and Lark." The first man ordered.

Reid, a terrified looking red-head no older than 17, nodded quickly before darting off down the hall. Emera thrashed against the hold on her. Beside her, the other guard had caught Jack's legs in a swipe and now the pair were grappling over the cane. Jack got loose from the tangle of limbs, leaping to his feet with the guard right behind him. Emera stayed her struggling to watch the pair duel. She had never really seen Jack fight before, other than holding off Anamaria during their last exploit. And she was amazed to find that he was remarkable at it. He danced around his opponent as easily as he had danced with Emera. Using his cane as a sword, the Pirate spared against the guard and his saber.

The man made a move meant to split Jack down the middle. Bringing the cane over his head he was able to block the blow and knock the saber to one side. Jack made a swing at the guard, but his attack was stopped short by the man grabbing hold of the cane's end. There was a distinct clicking sound and, without warning, the shaft of the cane split away from its hilt. The guard stumbled back with the body of the walking stick still in his hands. Both he and Jack were staring at a thin, glinting, blade that sat were the cane should have been. Everyone stopped moving.

"Did you know it could do that?" Jack asked no one in particular, amazed, "I didn't know it could do that!"

"Don't just stand there gawking! Use it!" Emera shouted at him.

Jack cracked a grin and the battle was on once more. Now armed with an actual blade, he was far more dangerous. This was a fact that his opponent had picked up on as well. The guard seemed to have an air of caution about him as he moved to attack. Jack, however, couldn't be bothered either way. In fact, he looked as though he was enjoying every moment of it. While the two resumed their duel, Emera took the opportunity that had been presented to her. She knocked the back of her head sharp into the nose and mouth of the man holding her. He yelped in shock while simultaneously releasing her. She spun on her heel and managed to land a lucky kick. The poor man crumpled to the floor in a gasping heap.

"Sorry, Mate." Emera shrugged and turned to where here friend was still sparing, "Jack! I think it's about time t' wrap it up, don't you?"

"Eh?" Jack ducked under a blow, "Oh! Right!"

Dodging behind the guard, the Pirate caught the back of the man's belt with his blade. A smooth flick of his wrist was all it took to split the strap of leather. The guard's belt and affects fell around his ankles, tripping him up until he was face down. With both of the guards now decorating the floor, the two Pirates wasted no time in making their escape. Hand in hand, the pair flew down the hall to their left. Emera silently thanked the stars that no one was watching them flee. Between her slipping about on the polished wood and Jack's flailing, they made quite the ridiculous pair. She suspected that anyone seeing them would easily mistake them for a pair of wild drunks. But at least they were making some ground. Emera was just getting a hold on her footing when Jack stopped dead in his tracks. She plowed into his shoulder and nearly lost her feet out from under her again.

"Jack! What are ya doing?!" She shoved him, irritated.

"Look!" He pointed up at one of the portraits on the wall in front of them, "I knew she kept it! Never doubted it for a moment!"

The portrait in question was perhaps only a few feet in either direction. It hung in a golden frame, which Emera found somewhat gaudy. Now, Emera was not very educated in the matters of art. She had seen the occasional painting (while stealing them) but she had never really paid them much attention. This painting was something Emera had never seen before. It was unmistakably of the Duchess but, unlike the other portraits on the wall, this was just of her face. Heavy black strokes formed the curve of her face and the line of her neck. The colour came from a wash of red that coated not only the canvas but the figure as well. In many ways, it could have been something a child created. At first glance it would no doubt be seen as sloppy or unsophisticated. But the features of the face were so delicate, so beautiful that it looked like the work of any master. Emera had to force herself to turn away from the piece as realization dawned on her.

"Wait... she's _that_ Duchess?!" She asked, floored by her new comprehension.

Jack started to reply but saw something over Emera's shoulder and said in a rush, "We'll discuss this later. Come on!"

The young sailor didn't need to look behind her to know that the reinforcements Reid had gone to collect had finally arrived. The sound of heavy foot falls and shouts regarding 'King and Country' echoed down the corridor. As Emera followed closely behind Jack, heart racing with every slick step, she couldn't help but smile. Jack had been right. The running, the fighting, the thrill of danger around every bend... she did love it more than life itself.

*** The portrait in this part of the story is based off one of Johnny Depp's real paintings. He's actually a rather remarkable artist (in my opinion.) If you'd like to see the one I used as inspiration and a few of his other works go to www. eotgproductions /paintings***


	9. Part 9

The two Pirates slipped through a set of double doors and into what looked like a music room. Dull light came in through the windows, shining up from the party below. The room was deserted and served as the perfect place for the pair to catch their breath. Somehow they had managed to lose their pursuers, but each knew that so long as they remained in the massive house they risked getting caught. Breathing heavily, the Pirates all but collapsed. Emera stooped and braced her hands on her knees while Jack leaned against one of the walls.

"Now what?" Emera gasped.

"Not sure. Let me think a moment..." Jack replied between labored breaths, "Give me the Mask, will you, Love?"

She nodded and reached into the satchel, "Ya know, this thing weighs a ton. I don't know how that woman paraded around with it on her face."

"She's possesses the remarkable strength of a whale." Jack shivered a little as though someone had just stepped over his grave.

"I _also_ don't want t' know how ya know _that_." Emera straightened and passed him the Mask, "Here."

Jack gingerly took it from her. He handled it as though it were made of paper. His eyes almost sparkled as he studied the treasure. He turned the object over in his hands a few times as he examined it's glimmering surfaces. When Emera had stuffed it into the satchel she hadn't gotten a very good look at it. Now that it was being held in front of her, she had the chance to take in the details. Jack's description had not done it justice. The foremost feather stemmed from the top-center of the forehead. The plume was crafted out of smooth emerald and spanned just shy of a foot in length. The feather's eye had been set into the emerald and was made of brilliant sapphire. Small, glittering diamonds covered the surface like due drops. The golden stem was hammered so flat that it seemed as though it might snap even in the gentlest of holds. Around this marvelous focal point countless other feathers fanned out, each just as breathtakingly beautiful as the last. Emera hovered close to his elbow as Jack ran his fingers over the golden face piece. A smile danced across his lips, making him look almost innocent for a moment. Like a small child.

Emera opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by a voice resonating from the other side of the music room, "I must say this is a touching scene. The pair of you gazing down at that precious object as though it's finally yours... It's enough to bring a tear to my eye."

Looking up with a start, the two Pirates found themselves staring at Caroline. She stood at the far end of the room just in front of a window. The light from the party outside enveloped her, casting a halo around her dim silhouette. She watched Emera and Jack with keen, knowing eyes and a small (almost playful) smile.

"Oh, Caroline..." Emera began.

"I'm afraid the Missus and I have gotten rather lost." Jack continued, tucking the mask behind his back, "And she's lost her… clothes…"

"You can drop your pathetic charade." Caroline spoke in a voice smooth as honey, "I know that you are not who you claim to be. And I know why you are here. Our reasons are not so different. Now then... hand over the Mask and we can all leave here in one piece."

"I don't understand." Emera furrowed her brow.

Caroline rolled her eyes and made a rough noise in the back of her throat, "Of course you don't, you dismal little girl. I doubt you even know what you have... but he does. Oh yes, the great Captain Sparrow. He _always_ knows and he _always_ gets what _he_ wants... no matter who it might hurt. Isn't that right, Jack?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, "Have I threatened you before?"

"No." She laughed, a sound like church bells, and walked forward a few paces, "But I've heard all about you and your... misadventures: How you ran away from Shipwreck Cove as a boy, your dealings with the East India Trading Company, how you _won_ your beloved ship... and then _lost_ her. I know exactly _why_ you _need_ the Peacock Mask. But I believe the real question here is, _does_ _she_?"

Caroline set her vivid blue eyes onto Emera as she asked the question. The young sailor shifted uncomfortably under the gaze. She glanced up at Jack. He was staring straight ahead at Caroline. His jaw was clenched and there was a curious expression on his face. Emera could almost see the gears of his mind turning as he set to working out a plan. She touched his arm lightly but he didn't stir.

"Jack..." Emera broke the silence that had fallen, "what's she talking about?"

He didn't reply.

"Oh!" Caroline laughed again, delighted, "She doesn't! You haven't told your precious pet a single thing! Tell me Jack, did you weave one of your brilliant lies? Did you tell her some grand story so wonderful that it had to be true? Or did you simply bat those dark eyes of yours and work her own heart against her?"

"What could you possibly want with the Mask?" Jack finally spoke, answering her question with a question.

She laughed for a third time, but it came out more shrill than before, "Why, my dear little bird, I want what you want. I thought that much would have been obvious. Now, give me the Mask."

"And if I should chose not?" Jack raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to one side.

Caroline smiled and raised her hands above her head, "I was _so_ hoping you would ask that question."

As if they were born from the very folds of her dress, monstrous ocean waves crashed out into the room. They swelled forward, swallowing up everything in their path. Emera and Jack were enveloped in their folds before they had the chance to realize what was happening. The heavy water threw them violently, pulling them apart from one another. Emera clawed desperately against the current but it was no use. She was like a grain of sand that had been swept up in the tide. She watched, eyes burning from the salt, as Caroline strode across the room towards Jack. She moved as easily as though the water wasn't even there. When she was close enough she reached up to where Jack was floating upside down. She plucked the Mask from his hands with a smile. Then she touched her fingertips to her lips and blew him a kiss. The bubbles that erupted from her mouth bulged until they were impossibly large. The waves parted in their wake, ripping around in a spontaneous whirlpool with Caroline in the center of it all. The two Pirates were tossed this way and that, until finally they landed in a spluttering heap on the music room floor. The water returned to the folds of Caroline's dress, sucked up as though the fabric was a sponge.

Emera pushed herself up onto her forearms and looked around. The room was unchanged and bone dry, as though nothing had happened at all. And yet she and Jack were lying in a puddle, soaked to the skin. She glanced at Jack. He sat up slowly and shook the water from his arms, glaring at nothing in particular. Caroline stood over them with a dark smile upon her lovely face. She was cradling the Mask with one arm against her hip. Her own water hadn't even touched her.

"Do you know the story of the Jay who stole fallen Peacock feathers?" Caroline asked, her voice eerily soft.

Neither Emera nor Jack made a move to reply.

"A Jay (although in this case I think a _Sparrow_ would be more fitting) venturing into a yard where Peacocks used to walk, found there a number of feathers which had fallen from the Peacocks when they were moulting." Caroline told them, thumbing the Mask as she spoke, "He tied them all to his tail and strutted down towards the Peacocks. When he came near them they soon discovered the cheat, and striding up to him pecked at him and plucked away his stolen plumes. So the _Sparrow_ could do no better than go back to the other _Sparrows_, who had watched his behaviour from a distance; but they were equally annoyed with him, and told him: '_It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds._'"

She fell silent, allowing the story to hang in the air.

Jack narrowed his eyes at her and said, "You fancy yourself a Peacock taking back it's feathers then, do you?"

"You ran away as a boy and masqueraded for some time as something you weren't. When you went back to your own kind they tore you apart, as evident by the loss of your precious ship, Captain Sparrow. Now here you are, masquerading once again as a Lord and a Lady, but you are fools if you believe you could ever be anything but _Pirates_." She said the word as though it tasted bad, "Captain Sparrow... why don't you tell your beloved pet what you really want with this Mask? Why don't you tell her why you desire this particular feather?"

Caroline thumbed the central feather on the mask.

"Jack?" Emera brushed her sopping hair out of her eyes and looked at him.

He turned to her, "It's not just a feather, Em."

"No, it certainly isn't." Caroline said wickedly, "It's a key. Isn't that right Jack? What did you tell this poor, sweet, senseless little girl? Did you tell her it was no more than just a Mask?"

"I was going to tell you." Jack jumped in.

"Another lie!" Caroline laughed shrilly, "You really can't help yourself, can you? I suppose she doesn't know what it opens either. I can't blame you for keeping this delicious secret from her. The Garden of the Hesperides. Golden Apples of Immortality. It's plain to see why you would want the key all to yourself. I bet you couldn't wait to taste those apples. You probably even believed they would help you get back what was taken from you. What a shame you never will. Oh well. Maybe next time, sweetheart."

She laughed again and turned her back on them. The woman glided back in the direction she had come from, leaving the two Pirates in the middle of the floor. She pulled open a door and a swarm of guards filed into the room. Caroline grinned, hugging the Mask to her chest, and leaned back against the doorframe. Apparently she intended to watch the pair get hauled off to prison. Emera, however, couldn't tare her eyes away from Jack. Why hadn't he told her? This was the second time Jack had talked her into an escapade without telling her all the details. Had she been a fool to expect anything different? Emera took a breath and screwed her resolve to the sticking point. Lying or not, Jack had promised her at least half of the Mask. And she would be damned if she was going to go home empty handed, let alone get arrested.

"Evening Gentlemen." Jack addressed the hoard of guards, "Before you arrest us I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that that woman there has just stolen what we rightfully nicked. Really, she's just as guilty as we are. So, why don't you slap a pair of irons on her and we can all go off to the lock up together, eh?"

"Shut up, you!" One of the men replied, "Stand up and show us your hands!"

Jack and Emera sighed and got to their feet, still dripping with seawater. As she righted herself, Emera noticed that the cane sword was still where Jack had dropped it on the floor in front of them. She took half a step forward. The two Pirates obeyed the order and stuck out their hands for the men to see. Emera glowered at Jack as they stood there together. He flashed her a sheepish smile that she supposed was meant to be an apology. She rolled her eyes.

"Jack." She said, her voice sharp.

"Aye?" He glanced at her.

Emera cracked a grin, "Catch."

Tucking her toes beneath the thin blade, Emera kicked the sword high into the air. Jack snatched it with one hand as a wide grin spread across his face. Newly armed, he swung his weapon in a wide arc which forced the group of men to leap back. He chuckled a little to himself as he held them all at blade's length. Now that Emera could get a good look, she saw that the guards numbered only five. Three of their company were Reid and the two men Emera could only assume were called Simons and Lark. The other two were the men that had been left in quite a state earlier. Evidently they had recovered.

"Right then." Jack studied his advisories, "Which of you lot is foolish enough to cross blades with a Pirate?"

Reid nearly elbowed one of his mates in the mouth in his effort to back up. Emera giggled a little to herself. The poor boy must have been terrified. No doubt this was his first posting. The man Jack had tripped up with his own belt lunged forward with a shout, bringing his sword down hard on Jack's. Either Simons or Lark (Emera didn't know which was which) joined his mate, teaming up two against one. With Reid trembling close to the door, that really only left two for Emera to deal with.

"Give it up, Girly." The man that she had fought earlier said, "It's useless trying to fight a pair of men like us. You're not even armed."

Emera smirked, "That didn't stop me from turning ya into a puddle before, now did it?"

She made a run at the two men, her damp stockings slapping against the hardwood floor of the music room. When she was three steps from her opponents, Emera dropped. Her hip smacked the ground but the momentum she had built carried her across the floor and she slid between the two men. Scrambling to her feet, she didn't bother looking over her shoulder, Emera had only one goal in mind. The Pirate Lass threw herself at Caroline and the pair tumbled to the floor in a mound. The Peacock Mask slid out of their reach as the two girls struggled against one another. The fight consisted of a flurry of limbs and a tangle of skirts. After a few moments of effort Emera managed to land a blow with her elbow. It was completely accidental, but it struck the other woman clean across the face and stunned her long enough for Emera to stand. The young sailor seized the Mask from where it lay and stuffed it into the satchel that still hung across her shoulder.

She had intended to make a brake for it, however Emera's moment of freedom was cut short. The two men she had evaded so well caught hold of her, one on either side. She kicked and thrashed about wildly, but all her effort was to no avail. Aiming a quick look over her shoulder, Emera saw that Jack was only just holding his own against the other guards. She cursed under her breath. Even if she hadn't gotten caught, she didn't think she would have been able to leave him behind.

"Jack!" Emera shouted.

"Just a moment, Love!" He replied while ducking a blow.

Emera watched as he twirled and twisted out of harm's way. His foot work was extraordinary. With a simple step one way followed by a turn the other way, he had managed to get his advisories tangled up in one another's limbs. As the two men tried to sort themselves out Jack darted towards Emera. Using his shoulder he plowed into one of her captors, knocking him off balance and away from the young sailor. She cracked the other one in the chin with her elbow, sufficiently freeing herself from his hold. Jack's hand shot out towards her and Emera caught it with her own. Then, together, the two Pirates sprinted through the door from which the guards had come, leaving the jumbled men and Caroline behind them.

The two ran like they had never run before. Jack took the lead, as usual, leading Emera down hallways and through darkened rooms. They nearly flew together as they lost themselves within the manor. Jack refused to stop until at last they found that they were in yet another long corridor. To their eyes it appeared as though the interior of the manor was a never ending labyrinth of adjoining hallways and doors. They stood for a moment, gasping for breath in the dimly lit hall of portraits.

"You know..." Emera said between laboured breaths as she looked around, "this seems very familiar."

"All these passages look the same." Jack shrugged, "For being so wealthy, you'd think that they could afford a decent decorator."

"No, Jack." Emera managed, "I think we've been here before."

"Nonsense." He waved her off, "Look, there's our escape! An open window! Let's go!"

Emera grudgingly followed him to the open portal, realizing where they were, "Wait, this is where I -"

Jack wasn't listening. He heaved himself out the window without a second thought and onto the thin ledge below. Emera braced her hand on the sill as she collected her bearings. Just as she had suspected, they had in fact been there before. Jack had just climbed out the window she had climbed in through.

"Jack!" She hissed.

Just then a set of footfalls began echoing down the corridor. Emera cursed under her breath again before hauling herself out the window. It would do them no good to get caught again. She shimmied out of the way, balancing yet again on the impossibly thin ledge. Jack was frozen to the spot on the opposite side of the window. He stared at the balcony next to him, finally realizing where they were.

"Bugger." He swore.

"Ya think?" Emera snorted, "Come on, let's get back inside and find a different way out."

"Right." Jack agreed.

A serving man passed by the open window. The two Pirates froze, pressing themselves against the smooth stones as though attempting to melt into them. The serving man stopped in front of the portal and muttered something about the draft to himself. Then he slammed the window shut and flipped the lock. Satisfied with his work, he set off down the corridor, leaving Emera and Jack trapped.

"Now what?" Emera could feel panic beginning to bubble within her chest.

"Not to worry." Jack reassured her calmly.

He shimmied over to the window and flashed her a smile. Bracing one hand on the glass, he slipped his blade (which he had yet to let go of) between the rail and the upper sash. He rattled the sword about, attempting to flip the locking mechanism. As he worked, Emera looked around for other options. There weren't any. Below a hay cart had come to rest as its driver argued with another serving man. They were debating the driver's ill timed delivery. Ill timed indeed. At any moment either of them could look up and would clearly see the two Pirates hanging against the wall. Emera wished Jack would work faster. As she watched the driver of the cart noticed Emera's previously discarded slippers. He pointed them out the serving man and, to her dismay, followed the trail to the bushes. It didn't take long for him to find her dress. He held it up to the serving man, who scratched his head in dismay. Just then there was a horrible cracking sound from the window. Jack froze and every muscle in Emera's body tensed. The window jamb gave another harrowing groan as it splintered out of the frame. With all of Jack's weight acting as an anchor the windowpane broke from its casing. Both the sheet of glass and the Pirate toppled backward from the side of the building.

"_Jack!_" His name tore from Emera's lips in a scream.

She wanted to shut her eyes but she couldn't. Emera watched helplessly as her friend plummeted 20 feet towards the ground. The windowpane struck the earth and shattered in a dazzling display of glass and splinters. Jack landed hard in the back of the cart. Some merciful higher power must have been watching the Pirates at just that moment. The mound of hay broke Jack's fall, swallowing him up and saving his life. Emera felt her legs go weak with relief, she had to cling to the wall all the tighter. The young sailor watched as Jack (who had gotten the attention of both the serving man and the cart driver) clambered to his feet. He grinned up at Emera for only a moment before he spotted the new danger they were in. The serving man had bolted, no doubt to find the guards, and the driver (still holding Emera's dress) was shouting all manner of threats at Jack.

"Emera!" Jack called up to her, "Jump!"

"What?! No! What if I miss?!" She called back.

"Just jump!" He spun around to glare up at her.

Emera shut her eyes tight and pushed away from the side of the wall. For an instant she felt the sensation of falling, then she landed hard in the hay. Jack grabbed her by her upper arms and hauled her to her feet. Already, she could tell that jumping had been a mistake. Her arms, face and the exposed bits of her legs crawled with the unbearable sensation of itchiness. She fought the urge to claw at her own skin. Emera turned to the driver, who was still shouting all manner of threats at them. In one smooth motion the young sailor snatched her gown out of his hands, leaving him with only a dumbstruck expression.

"That's mine." She managed to snap just before a sneeze erupted from her.

"Alright, Love?" Jack asked, making a slightly repulsed face at her.

"No." She said, sharper than she had intended, "Help me out of here."

Jack gave her his arm and together they clambered to the front of the cart. They climbed up into the driver's seat and Jack flashed a grin that told Emera he was up to no good. The Pirate took up the reins, muttering a quick 'hold on' before flicking his wrists. The strips of leather made a satisfying snapping sound and the cart's horse started off at a trot. Emera, who had been standing, toppled into the seat next to Jack with the sudden movement. The driver, now behind them, screamed something about theft but they could hardly hear him over the grinding of the wheels. Jack snapped the reins again and the horse picked up its pace. Emera found herself clinging onto his arm as he drove the cart away from the manor.

It would have been the perfect escape had they been going in the correct direction. Jack, who had clearly never driven a horse cart before, wasn't the only component that was causing them difficulty. The cart had been facing the wrong direction to begin with. The two Pirates only realized this when they rounded the corner of the manor and came out almost on top of the dance floor. People started screaming and leaping out of the way. It would have been hilarious had Emera not been completely terrified and itchy all over. The horse, it seemed, had a personal vendetta against the string orchestra. He ran headlong into the center of their ensemble, sending the players leaping from their chairs in a parting that was reminiscent of the red sea. As the cart clambered over music stands and instruments Emera buried her face into the folds of her recovered dress, unable to watch. They must have ridden through several tables before they reached the open field of the estate. When the cart ceased thrashing about, the young sailor finally chanced a look behind them. A wake of chaos and destruction stretched back as far as the eye could see.

When she turned round again Emera let out a shrill scream, "Jack! Look out for the drop-off!"

"That's where we're headed, Love!" Jack replied with a laugh in his throat.

He drove the cart hard, aiming directly for the sheer drop that separated the estate from the farmland it over looked. The young sailor clung to Jack's arm as he flicked the reins yet again. The horse picked up its pace, hooves thundering against the earth. They neared the drop-off at a breakneck speed which caused another scream to erupt from within her. She shut her eyes tight and buried her face into Jack's shoulder, still screaming and holding her gown in a death grip. Then the horse and cart flew off the edge of the drop. There was a moment of weightlessness before the vehicle landed hard against the lower field. It bounced and creaked and moaned upon impact, but by some miracle it held together. Emera peaked out from her hiding place and smiled, giddiness bubbling in her stomach.

"Well, that was subtle." She laughed and glanced up at Jack, "I reckon we escaped completely unseen."

"One of my many talents, Love." Jack returned calmly.

He was smiling, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. The young sailor furrowed her brow as she studied him. Of course. The realization struck her as they sped behind the cover of trees. Jack didn't know she had the Mask. There it was, sitting in the satchel across her shoulder and he had no idea. He had been far too occupied to see when Emera had taken it back from Caroline.

_Caroline._ The woman who wasn't at all what she had seemed. How had she known so much about Jack? What _was_ his reason for wanting the Mask? And, more importantly, how had she conjured water from thin air? The world was rumored to be filled with wild, unexplainable things. Perhaps Caroline belonged in this uncharted category, falling alongside Mermaids, Sea Monsters, Ghosts and Spirits. After all, Emera had heard her fair share of stories about all sorts of supernatural beings or events. But she had never heard of anything like Caroline before. What sort of a creature could call forth the sea with a simple wave of her hand? The young sailor hoped she would never find out.


	10. Part 10

They drove the cart a little farther out into the estate until the two Pirates believed they had put enough distance between themselves and the party. The cart tumbled along, clanking and creaking, no doubt sore from the plummet it had taken off the previous drop. Emera scratched at her arms furiously, still itchy from her tumble in the hay, as Jack slowed the cart to a stop. When at last their ride was at an end, Jack stretched and hopped from his seat. Emera followed suit, watching as he unhitched the horse from its harnesses. The Pirate gave the animal a small pat on the neck and turned to Emera.

"I'm certain I spotted a gate not far in..." He spun in a tight circle, trying to get his bearings, "that direction...ish."

Emera smiled, taking his arm, "Well then, Captain Sparrow. Lead the way."

The two set off in the direction Jack had indicated. The trek was deprived of his usual happy chatter. Emera guessed he was still stewing over the Mask. She bit her lower lip as they walked, fidgeting with her bundled gown under her arm and debating what she should do. As far as he knew, Caroline still had the piece. That meant that Emera would be free to take it and he would never know. To the right buyer it would fetch an impressive sum. She could sell the thing and make a fortune. A fortune that could one day buy her a ship of her own. Emera had to admit, the thought was appealing. But what of Jack? She tried to convince herself that by concealing his true intentions for the Mask he deserved to lose it completely. But she couldn't. The only thing he was guilty of was secrecy. And after their last adventure, she shouldn't have expected anything more from him. He didn't deserve to be punished for acting in his nature, did he? No. Emera knew he didn't. It would be like reprimanding a bird for flying.

"Jack..." Emera clutched his sleeve, bringing them to a halt under a large tree.

"Mmm?" He hummed in reply.

"Was everything Caroline said true?" She asked, not looking at him and scratching at her neck.

"Aye." His voice was low.

"Why didn't you tell me ya wanted the key for yerself? Ya said there wasn't a catch this time." She glanced at him, "I thought... after everything you'd at least trust me enough to be honest with me."

His face was grim and his voice was low, "Trust is a dangerous thing for a Pirate to place in others. Trust is what landed me on that Godforsaken spit of an Island. Trust is what took my ship from me!"

His voice had become sharp.

"Trust is what provided me with this!" He pulled up his right sleeve, showing her the scarred letter 'P' there, then he pulled up the corner of his shirt, exposing the long thin scar along his ribs, "Trust is what nearly got me killed in St. Dominic! And I won't even bother showing you what putting trust in my _dear _Grandmama did to me! I don't trust anyone. Not anymore. Not after the world had proven to me time and time again what trust does. Losing my ship was the final lesson I needed."

He kicked angrily at the underbrush next to the path .

"And I plan on getting her back no matter what it takes." Jack's voice had softened a little now, "Emera, Love, I do _like_ you. Know that. But I don't _trust _you... please don't take it personally. It's just the way things are."

She forced herself to smile, lying sweetly, "I suppose I can understand that. I only trust two people outside of my own family."

"I envy you." Jack cracked a grin, "If I had a coin for every time one of my relatives tried to kill me, I would have no need of treasure. I could completely retire from Piracy."

The two continued walking and Emera said, "Ya wouldn't though, would ya? You love it too much."

"That's true." Jack shrugged.

"Speaking of treasure..." Emera bit her bottom lip, "Why do you need a key to the Garden of the Hesper... Hespa... err..."

"Hesperides." Jack corrected with a smile, "I suppose there's no point in hiding it any longer, now that... Anyway, what do you know of the Greek Gods?"

"Not much." Emera shrugged.

Jack delved into his tale with a sly grin, "The Garden of the Hesperides is the Goddess Hera's privet orchard. In it is a grove of trees that bare Golden Apples of Immortality. Legend has it that if a mortal eats one of these Apples, they will be granted eternal life. The Garden is rumored to be on an island somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle. The key, the center feather on the Mask, is needed to unlock the gate to the Garden."

"Immortality, huh?" She pondered the story for a moment, "Jack, why would you want t' live forever?"

He stopped walking again, bringing Emera to a halt beside him. He looked at her for a long time, studying her with his dark eyes. His lips quivered a few times, as though he wanted to reply but simply couldn't find the right words. The young sailor stared up at her friend, wondering what could be so horrible that he had to plan out what he was going to say to her. She took his hand in hers lightly, trying to prompt him. After a long, silent, moment it seemed as though he had settled on the right words.

"This is precisely what I didn't want to get into. Why I didn't tell you." He started, his voice soft, "Imagine… that someone saved your life. But before they did, they forced you into a deal. The bargain isn't fair, but you haven't any choice. So you agree... but try your damndest to sway the favors in your direction before you do..."

He trailed off, his dark eyes searching her face again.

"What sort of deal?" Emera pressed gently.

"The sort... the sort where the price for _saving_ your life... is _also_ your life." He looked away, "I thought I was clever... I dunno if you've noticed, Love, but I've a way of working words to my advantage."

"I have noticed, actually." Emera smiled at him and squeezed his hand a little.

"I thought..." He went on, "I thought I had bought myself enough time. I thought I had tricked my way into being too fast to catch up to. But fate has not been kind. And now I find myself moving too slowly while time moves too quickly. And I thought... well, you can't very well take the life of someone who can't die, now can you? And even if someone could take it... a hundred years would pass in the blink of an eye to someone with all of eternity spread out before them... Don't you think?"

Emera nodded slowly, but she didn't understand. Not one bit. What did he mean about making a deal for his life? Who had he bargained with? And why? Did this have to do with his lost ship? As always, mystery hung around Jack like a heavy cloak. It made him seem distant... cut off. Even though they stood elbow to elbow, Emera felt as though they were separated by hundreds of miles. No matter how she tried, she couldn't get close enough to him. There was always that thin, impassible, barrier separating them. It made him unattainable. And his inaccessibility made her want him all the more. At least now she knew the cause for his detachment. Trust. Or rather, an extreme lack thereof. If she could make Jack trust her... perhaps then she would be allowed to pass through that wall.

"Aye... but what are ya running from?" She needed to know.

"A fate worse than death, Love." He replied.

Not knowing how to respond, Emera resorted to the only thing she could. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, her face somewhere in the crook of his neck. He was still damp from the freak-waves earlier. Jack must have been surprised because his arms hung in the air for a moment. But, slowly, he allowed himself to answer. His arms closed around her back, making Emera hug him all the more tightly. Even like this, practically occupying the same space, he wasn't close enough. She wanted to envelop him into her chest. Inhaling the thick, mixed, scent of sweat, sea salt and rum that lingered on his skin was the best she could do. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't even close. Then, for fear she might make a fool of herself, she let go and took a step back. Emera looked away, composing herself quickly. Jack cleared his throat a little, but smiled. With that, the young sailor had made up her mind. She shrugged out of the satchel and offered it to him. After all, to be trusted, one must first trust.

"Here, Jack." She said softly, "I believe this is yours."

He furrowed his brow, but took the bag from her and peered inside, "Emera, Love... how did you... where... when?"

"When I was scrapping with Caroline back in the music room." She shrugged and admitted, "Yer lucky, ya know? I came _this_ close t' keeping that for myself."

He laughed and slung the satchel over his shoulder, "Pirate."

"Yeah well," She shoved him playfully, "it's a good thing you know how t' sell a sob-story, Jackie."

"Hmm... or maybe your just soft." He shrugged and flashed her a sly grin.

Emera rolled her eyes, "Don't make me change my mind."

"I take it back, Love. You're not soft." Jack pulled her own mask out of the bag and handed it to her, "Your the... second most fearsome Pirate standing in this field."

She tucked the mask with her dress, punched Jack's shoulder, then linked her free arm with his, "And don't you dare forget it, Captain Sparrow."

"I suppose we really ought to find that boy... what was his name... Eli... Ellie..." Jack thought aloud as they started off again.

"Elijah." Emera corrected.

"Right. Best we find him before he goes running off to Madame Bridgett in a panic. What she would do, Heaven only knows." He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Emera found herself smiling against her will as she and Jack crossed over the threshold of the estate's back gate. Perhaps the night hadn't gone quite according to plan, but it could have been a lot worse. They had made it out alive, a little bruised, and they had gotten what they came for. Looking down at what was left of her costume, the young sailor couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. The garment was, unfortunately, crumpled and mud covered. But it served as a fine reminder of the extraordinary evening she had been lucky enough to survive. No doubt Kay would be disappointed by the state of it, and Madame Bridgett's reaction didn't bare thinking about. But, as she walked down the lane with Jack at her side, Emera wouldn't have traded it for the world.

Not far down the road, the two were reunited with Madame Bridgett's young nephew, Elijah. The poor thing had been worried sick but seemed more at ease once Jack explained what had transpired. In no time the three were safely back in the chaise that had brought them there in the first place. The way back to Madame Bridgett's shop seemed shorter than the journey away from it. Emera suspected that this was thanks to the overwhelming sense of relief she was now engulfed in.

When they reached Madame Bridgett's shop the trio were greeted with a mixture of pure relief and suppressed anger. As the three were crushed into a tight group-hug, Emera noticed Madame Bridgett examining the reminisce of her dress. The woman clicked her tongue a few times in disapproval but said nothing. The recapped the adventure briefly before bidding Madame Bridgett (who happily gave Emera a cloth sack to carry the reminisce of her gown in) and Elijah farewell. When they reached the front door, Jack was pulled to one side for a moment by the woman. The young sailor stood waiting as Madam Bridgett spoke in a hushed tone to her friend. Curiosity pinged somewhere in the back of the young sailor's mind, but Emera decided to ignore it. She was far too tired to get swept up into another of Jack's schemes. Or at least not so soon. The conversation was over in a breath's time. Jack tipped his hat to his friends, then slipped out of his frockcoat and offered it to Emera. She took it with a smile.

"Ya know, Elijah..." Emera called as she and Jack started down the road, "if ya ever get bored of life on the mainland, just give me a shout."

The young man smiled but didn't reply, instead he merely rose a hand in farewell. Emera and Jack strolled at a leisurely pace back towards the docks, allowing Madame Bridgett's shop to fade behind them. They walked in a comfortable silence. While she couldn't speak for Jack, Emera felt as though she had a strange new understanding of him. Of course she believed she could also be imagining it, but there was a feel in the air around them that seemed more... at ease than in the past. As they neared the docks Emera stole a few glances at Jack. His face was composed and his posture relaxed. To anyone else he would have looked calm. However, Emera could see the gleam in his eye and knew at once that he was looking forward to what lay ahead of him. They were standing on the cusp of a new adventure when they came to a stop on the long boardwalk of the docks. One of them would be heading off into the unknown. And the other would be venturing home for the first time in what felt like ages.

"You'll be off then, Love?" Jack smiled at her.

"Aye." She nodded, "And you too, I suppose. Lost islands, hidden gardens, Golden Apples... you've got quite the 'venture lined up."

"That I do." He agreed, then he looked at her seriously and said, "You know, Darling, you could come with me... if you wanted to."

Emera's heart nearly stopped in her chest. He wanted her to go with him. Excitement rippled over her as she opened her mouth to accept, but she stopped herself. She longed to be at his side as he crossed the globe in the name of freedom, adventure and gold. But she knew she couldn't. She had duties, responsibilities and a family to think about. Had none of those things been in play, she would have said 'yes' in a heartbeat. But the weight of her life acted as an anchor, keeping her grounded while he was free to sail where he wished. Perhaps one day, that would no longer be the case. Perhaps one day, she would be able to soar at his side. But that day was nowhere in sight as the two of them stood on the docks together.

"I do want to." She said slowly, "But I can't. Not this time."

"Shame, that." He kept his dark eyes on her, "It is in my professional opinion that you would have made a most excellent traveling companion."

Emera could only smile, "Stay safe, Captain Sparrow."

The young sailor leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek in a light kiss. Then she slipped out of his frockcoat and handed it to him. This time, a short peck and the safe return of his jacket were all she could leave him with. As she studied him for a moment, Emera caught a glimpse of her blue and silver sea coin still knotted into his hair. She smiled again and took a few steps back.

"Not to worry, Love." Jack winked at her, "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"I hope that's true." Emera smiled.

"Ah! I nearly forgot." He reached into his satchel and pulled out the Golden Mask.

Emera watched as he pulled the central feather, the key, away from the rest of the brilliant Mask. It clicked out of place with a satisfying metallic noise, leaving a smooth indent behind in the metal. Jack tucked the feather into his bag before holding the rest of the Mask out to her. She stared at it. Then at him.

"I don't understand." She shook her head a little.

"We had an accord, did we not?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Aye, but…" She stammered.

"Fifty, fifty." He pressed the Mask into her hands, "Just like I promised."

"Jack…" Emera breathed, hardly daring to believe what was happening.

"You know, Love, to the right buyer that bit of shine could fetch you enough profit to make you the proud owner of a small ship." He pointed out, tapping a finger on the Mask as he spoke.

"I think yer right." She nodded, "Thank you, Jack."

He gave her a nod and helped her into one of _The Rose's_ longboat that had been tied up along the dock, left behind by crewmen on shore leave. She waved to her friend a little as she settled within the small vessel, silently wishing him luck on whatever lay ahead. Then she kicked herself off from the docks and started out to sea. As she rowed away from him, she couldn't help but recognize a familiar ach. As always for her, their partings were bitter-sweet. In a way, there was as sense of satisfaction to it. Now Jack was the one standing on the docks watching as she vanished out onto the open sea. They had come full-circle. But that didn't stop the hollow feeling from returning to Emera's chest. As she neared her father's ship, she knew that the sensation was from missing Jack. She hadn't expected it to set in quite so soon. The hold that man had on her was something extraordinary. And she was finally beginning to understand exactly just what it was. Though she would never admit it, not even to herself, Emera knew now that she was in love with the man called Captain Jack Sparrow. And that meant that a world of trouble lay around every bend.

The End

***I'd like to thank all you readers. I really appreciate all your comments, favorites and what-have-yous. They each mean the world to me. I really hope you've enjoyed Jack and Emera's adventures thus far. Be sure to keep a weather eye out for the next installment (and hopefully a few more after that.) Who knows what's in store? Oh, and make sure you stick around a little longer, because even though it says "The End" I'll bet you your weight in gold it's not over yet. ; ) ***


	11. Epilogue

When they entered the large house that sat just uphill from the beach, Emera and her father were greeted by cheerful squeals. Rosa and Mia rushed to meet them at the door, crushing them into a group-hug. There, lost somewhere between Mia's shoulder and Rosa's chest, Emera realized just how much she had missed her stepmother and stepsister. The embrace shifted into excited conversation. The women asked question after question about where the two Pirates had been and what they had seen. Emera tried her best to answer as quickly as Mia asked. Flint, however, resorted to silencing his wife's interrogation by snogging her.

"Slow down, Mia!" Emera laughed, "I have questions too. Is Malcolm here?"

Mia shook her head, sending her dark curls bouncing every which way, "No not yet. But he sent word. He should be here within the next few days!"

"Wonderful!" Emera beamed and took her sister's hands, "I've missed both of you so much!"

After a while, the family moved their conversation from the foyer to the sitting room. The discussion carried on for over an hour. It had been ages since they had seen one another and a great deal can transpire in that time. They caught up over afternoon tea, talking until Flint dozed off on the sofa. Emera took the opening as an opportunity to deliver her belongings to her bedroom. The young sailor excused herself and hurried up the stairs. The way to her room was all too familiar despite the fact that she didn't spend much time there. Shoving the door open, she stepped inside the small space.

The room was perhaps five paces across in either direction. On the wall opposite the door sat a large set of windows, below them sat a number of trunks and drawers. Emera's bed sat to the right. It was dressed in modest coverings and a folded stack of clean clothes had been placed at its foot. Emera smiled to herself as she crossed to examine the pile. It consisted of a clean pair of breeches, a linen blouse and a fresh set of undergarments. The young sailor tossed her sea-sack onto the bed before turning around. She had intended to inspect the rest of her room but was caught off guard by something across from her. Her vanity sat along the wall there, next to her bookshelf and a small table. Emera crossed slowly to the mirror in order to clarify what she was seeing. Sure enough, someone had scrawled across the surface of glass. The message looked to have been written in a stick of Emera's own kohl and it read:

_You took something of mine, and so I've taken something of yours. If you want him back... then come and get him. And bring the Mask._

_- Caroline._

Emera felt as though someone had forced her to swallow a chunk of ice. She couldn't move. She could hardly breathe. A wave of land-sickness overtook her, threatening to make her topple over if she didn't steady herself. The young sailor gripped the back of her vanity chair and stared at the elegant writing across her mirror.

"Jack..." She breathed.

_***Oi! Emera here.**_**_I'd like t' wish each and every one of ya a very happy International Talk Like A Pirate Day! Be safe, don't do anything I wouldn't do, and remember: Take what ya can, give nothing back!*_**


End file.
